


An Exercise in Trust

by MysticMoonhigh



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BDSM, Canon Divergence, Crowley has a penis, Edging, Exhibitionism, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, Lingerie, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Non-Sexual Petplay, Orgasm Delay, Overstimulation, Petplay, Pining, Sado-Masochism, Slow Burn, Sounding, Spanking, Wax Play, Whips, aziraphale has a penis, brief depictions of body image issues, but the majority of the content is probably sub!Aziraphale, continuance, crops, like seriously so much pining, naked twister, so much wing kink, talk of orgasm denial, theyre SWITCHES folks, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 91,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMoonhigh/pseuds/MysticMoonhigh
Summary: Crowley desperately willed his uncooperative brain to catch up to where Aziraphale was. He knew what the Angel was saying in theory , but every time he tried to make himself believe it, it was like he was short-circuiting.“So you want me to tell hell that we’re fucking?”“I want you to tell Hell that I’m letting you do whatever you want to my body.” Aziraphale responded. “We already have the rope, if they need a demonstration.”“ Demonstration? ” Crowley squeaked. Suddenly, some very compromising thoughts thrust their way directly to the forefront of his imagination.~~~Heaven and hell don’t remember the apocalypse. In order to spend time together, Aziraphale comes up with a genius plan; they tell heaven that he’s kidnapped Crowley to extract information, and they tell hell… Well, they tell hell that Crowley is sexually corrupting the angel. Just how far will they go to make sure that their story is believable?Alternative title: Not Your Mother’s Fake Dating AU.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 263
Kudos: 530
Collections: Bittersweet Good Omens, Courts GO Re-Reads, Tip Top Stories





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will have SCHEDULED UPDATING!!  
> I'm posting this on a Thursday, but the typical updating day will be Friday. You might occasionally get an additional chapter (I'm planning on updating this this Tuesday as well since it'll be my 21st birthday and I'd like to celebrate by sharing a little extra bit of this story next week). But as long as I don't forget, you shouldn't miss an update. I have this fic completely finished and edited and sitting in a google doc. (Final word count is around 90k). BUT ANYWAYS.  
> Welcome to my fic. I wrote this because Horny. Thanks for stopping by. Friendly reminder to everyone to make sure you read the tags to curate your own internet experience! I don’t want anyone reading this and becoming uncomfortable with a kink/scenerio. Without further ado, ENJOY!

Adam had decided, in the twenty seconds Crowley had stopped time, that he quite liked him. (That Aziraphale fellow didn’t seem half bad either). 

Adam knew what rebellion meant. He knew that when he did it, his earthly father would ground him for the rest of the month, or tell him he had to write sentences, or even worse, complain to the other adults about what a naughty child he had been. 

And he figured that Aziraphale and Crowley were now the naughtiest children in all of heaven and hell. 

But he  _ liked them _ . They didn’t deserve to get grounded from television for a millenia, or to be forced to write a billion sentences. And he figured that heaven and hell (being heaven and hell) could probably come up with even  _ worse _ punishments. 

So, he made a decision. 

And when he put everything back to normal, he erased the memories of every angel and demon aside from the token two. The rest would remember nothing of the botched apocalypse.

It left a few of them with some quite significant gaps over the last eleven years, but over all, he thought that he’d done a pretty nice job of making things the way they were. 

After all, Crowley and Aziraphale had helped him to avert the apocalypse. Neither one of them deserved the fate they would be given if their respective sides were to ‘get their hands on them’, so to speak. Adam was sure of that.

He had a feeling that things were going to work out okay for them now. They deserved it.

~~~

“Crowley,” Aziraphael’s voice drifted through the speaker, “I believe we have something somewhat important to discuss. I’d like to talk about our relationship in private, whenever you’re free.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows, pulling the phone away from his ear to check the name and number. It was indeed his angel.

“Hello?” Aziraphael asked, cautiously.

“Sorry, Angel.” Crowley apologized, “My mind’s just been wandering. Would you like to see me tonight, or would some other time work better for you?” 

“Tonight would be perfect!” Aziraphael exclaimed. “I’ve ordered a bottle of an absolutely wonderful dessert wine to celebrate the end of the world. You can drink whisky straight while I have that.”

Crowley smiled. He’d told Aziraphael a joke about liking his humor like he liked his wine; dry. From then on, Aziraphael had always gone out of his way to either get dry wines or provide Crowley with another option, and Crowley found it almost… Sweet. Granted, Crowley stole sips of Aziraphale’s sweeter stuff whenever he wasn’t looking.

“Alright. See you in a jiff.” Crowley said. He hung up the phone and got up, walking over towards his wardrobe. He had to pick out something to wear, after all. 

Two hours later he was standing in front of the door to Aziraphale’s bookshop, his hand raised, knuckles preparing to tap against the wooden door. 

His knuckles barely even grazed it. 

Aziraphale opened the door immediately, eyes lighting up as he looked fondly at Crowley. Then, as Aziraphale had never done before, he leaned out the window and peered along the sidewalk. An anxious frown briefly won over his expression, and Crowley felt a tight ball of anxiety in his own stomach accompany it. When Aziraphale decided that the coast was clear he leaned back in and stepped aside, spreading out his free arm in a gesture of grand welcome. 

Crowley entered the bookshop tentatively, waiting until the door was shut behind him to start asking questions. 

“What was all that about?” He questioned. “You don’t think I’m being followed, do you?”

“I… Think you should come into the back room and we’ll pour you a glass.” 

And so, that was what they did. 

Three-point-two-six glasses in, Aziraphale finally said what was on his mind. 

He was sprawled out across the couch with his glasses amiss and one of his socks somehow missing. (Crowley had miracled it away to see how long it would take him to notice). Crowley was leaning back in the armchair with his legs propped up on the coffee table as he sank lower into the seat.

“Heaven was the one who found out about you and I, you know.” Aziraphale declared. “At least, I think so.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Crowley asked, sloshing his drink around. Not because he was particularly drunk or uncoordinated, but simply because he found it entertaining to slosh ones drink. “They don’t remember it now. Adam made sure of that.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Aziraphale agreed, because he had to. “But if they did it once, they could do it again. And you could be hurt. I could be hurt. We could  _ both _ be hurt.”

Crowley got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“And what are you suggesting we do about it?” He asked, darkly. “Stop seeing each other?”

“I would  _ never _ .” Aziraphale said, haughtily. “I would rather heaven find out than to stop seeing you, Crowley. Surely you know that by now.”

Crowley was suddenly very grateful that he was wearing sunglasses. 

“Then what is your plan?”

Aziraphale thought, but seemed to be hitting a wine-induced block. 

“How about we finish the rest of the alcohol, go to sleep, and figure it out in the morning?” He suggested. Crowley considered asking where exactly he would be sleeping tonight, but decided to let it slide. The recliner was awfully comfy, after all. 

“You have the best ideas, Angel.” Crowley agreed. Aziraphale raised his glass, and Crowley bent his arm at an unnatural angle to clink their glasses together.

~~~ 

“Why did you let me go to sleep without sobering up?” Aziraphale asked, rubbing his temples. “I usually don’t even  _ sleep _ . Let alone drunk.”

“Seems like you slept just fine last night.” Crowley commented. He groaned as he stretched out on the recliner, feeling a heavy, warm weight on top of him. His eyes opened, and he discovered that it was, in fact, Aziraphale. 

So  _ that _ was why the weight had been breathing. 

“That’s because you’re a bad influence.” Aziraphale argued, pointedly. He slowly shifted his weight until one of his feet were on the floor, and pushed himself up off of Crowley. Crowley hissed at the lack of warmth, and he suddenly remembered why Aziraphale had slept on top of him. “I never would have slept in the first place if not for your influence.”

“I needed warmth! You don’t have a single bloody blanket in this house, and I am cold blooded. What, were you going to lie on top of me  _ awake _ all night?”

“I shouldn’t have laid on top of you at all!” Aziraphale countered, his face immediately going red. Crowley felt hurt streak through him. It was softened ever so slightly as Aziraphale tagged on, “We had work to do. We should have been thinking.”

“Well in that case,” Crowley responded, “I’ll go and make us some thinking juice. You stay here and regret the wonderful night we shared together.”

It was a joke, of course. Crowley covered up his pain with humor. Aziraphael rolled his eyes, walking back to his couch and sitting down. When Crowley came back with two steaming cups of coffee, he was frowning down at a piece of notebook paper with a pen in his hand and an extra one stuck behind his ear for good measure. 

“Alright,” Crowley said, sitting next to the angel. He spread out his legs and made himself comfortable as he sipped at the hot liquid. Their knees brushed together, but Aziraphale didn’t move away. “So, what have you got so far?”

“I have named the plan ‘Operation Best Friends.’ I thought you would probably hate it.”

“You’re right, I do,” Crowley admitted, “And we’re keeping it. Anything on the specific plans of operation friendship?”

“Operation best friends.” Aziraphale corrected, before continuing, “And right now, I have nothing. It would be so much easier to figure this out if we could just… Get ahead of them, somehow.”

Crowley took a sip of his coffee. Aziraphale had hardly touched his, and Crowley wondered whether or not he had added enough sugar before pushing the thought away. Now, he had to deal with more pressing matters. He had an idea. (Sort of).

“Wait a minute.” He argued, “What if we already have?”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale questioned. 

“I mean,” Crowley set down his coffee and leaned forward, excitedly. “I mean that Heaven doesn’t remember the last eleven years. In the home stretch, they somehow found out that we were… hanging out.”

“As best friends tend to.” Aziraphale pointed out, doing what could only be described as a  _ happy wiggle _ . 

“Yes, well,” Crowley shook off the confusing feelings that that gave him, “If we can find out how they figured it out, then we could… I dunno, figure out how to stop it from happening again? Does heaven keep records? A security camera, maybe? If we found footage of them discovering our friendship, we would know how they did it, and we could stop them from doing it again.”

“If they did exist, I’m assuming that Adam wiped them all when he put everything as it was.” Aziraphale said, doubtfully. “And just because they have one for the earth-”

Aziraphale paused then, going stiff as a realization visibly washed over him. 

“Oh. Oh  _ no. _ ” He said, biting his lower lip. “They saw it on earth’s security feed. Crowley, how are we going to stop  _ that _ from picking us up? We won’t be able to see each other outside anymore!”

“And even then, they could still catch us coming and going,” Crowley pointed out, nodding grimly. “We need to find something that will explain that to them. Or find some way to block both of us from that kind of…  _ attention, _ all together.” 

There was a long, pregnant pause as both of them thought. Crowley tried not to feel too hopeless. 

“I…” Aziraphale began, slowly, “I think I might have an idea.”

He bit his bottom lip, and Crowley’s attention was immediately piqued. When Aziraphale bit his lip like that, it was a tell. He had a  _ good _ idea. One that he probably thought was both brilliant and risky. One that he was afraid Crowley would shut down. 

“C’mon, out with it then.” Crowley requested, waving his hand. “No idea is a bad idea.”

“What if we convince our respective sides that we’re holding each other captive?”

Crowley paused. 

“One idea is a bad idea.” He amended. 

“You haven’t even thought about it yet!” Aziraphale defended, a bit testily. “You can’t just shoot it down before we’ve thoroughly discussed it!”

“Oh, fine!” Crowley huffed, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms. He racked his head for reasons why this might be a bad idea. He  _ knew _ it was. He just had to think of  _ why _ first. 

He tapped his fingers on his chair, considering for a moment. 

“What, exactly, are you going to have heaven think you’re doing with me as a captive? Tying me to a chair and making me listen to bible verses?”

“Splendid idea!” Aziraphale said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. Crowley’s eyebrows came together. “That, and occasionally interrogating you for information about hell.”

Crowley snorted. “You couldn’t interrogate someone if your life depended on it. And besides,” He added, thoughtfully, “We would never be able to leave the house, what with both of us pretending to be captives.”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He sighed, wistfully. “I just… I don’t want to have to stop seeing you. But I feel bad putting you in all this danger, and myself, too.”

“Pity we couldn’t just tell them we let each other go occasionally. For funsies.” Crowley said, laughing. “Tell them we hunt each other for sport or something like that.”

A look of absolute  _ revelation _ came across Aziraphale’s face, and he stood up fast, taking off towards his bookshelves. 

“Maybe we could!” He declared, running back and forth between them. 

“Hunt each other for sport?” Crowley questioned. Aziraphale ignored him as he stalked through the shop, searching.

“No, no, no…” Aziraphael mumbled. Crowley wondered what he was looking for. He finally seemed to locate the correct aisle, and wasted no time in running down it. Crowley reluctantly got up and followed, curiosity outweighing his lazy tendency to stay on the couch until something forced him to move. 

As he rounded the corner, Aziraphael was running his hands along the spines of the old books, squinting as he read the names of the authors aloud. 

“Smith, Snark, Spleg, Speiman… SPEIMAN!” He shouted, grabbing hold of the thick book. It had a bright red cover with some occult symbols slapped together on the front. Aziraphale opened it, flipping through the pages rapidly. 

“Angel,” Crowley said, “Is now really the time to be reading?”

“This is one of the rarest books in my collection. It’s an occultist’s guide to angelic and demonic energies, and it was put out of circulation by heaven before it was ever actually sold. Only three copies are known to exist. The original, handwritten manuscript, the author’s first copy, and a backup copy the publisher had set aside in an undisclosed location.”

“And the information in it was accurate?” Crowley asked, intrigued by the possibility. Suddenly, Aziraphale looked up, sharply. 

His gaze was intense as his eyes shifted towards Crowley. Their eyes locked, and he knew Aziraphale could see through his glasses. The moment slowed, became… Oddly intimate. Crowley felt something inside of him shiver. 

“I hope you know how much trust I’m putting in you even just by telling you that this book exists.” Aziraphale informed him.

Crowley swallowed. He couldn’t handle the weird, intense tension, and decided to break it.

“Oh, off with it.” He waved a hand dismissively. “We saved the world together, if you can’t trust me with a book of magic spells by now I’d say we aren’t very good friends.”

Crowley said this, of course, to avoid how cherished the thought that Aziraphale  _ did _ trust him that much made him feel. 

Aziraphale finally landed on the page that he wanted, and he skimmed it before turning it around to show the demon. Crowley skimmed the page too, his brow furrowing in concentration as the smell of old books wafted through the air, distracting him. 

“I see… aaaaaan old occult symbol.” Crowley announced. “I don’t understand the significance.”

“This, my dear boy,” Aziraphale explained, “Is a seal that bars one from talking about any kind of captivity.”

“And your point is?”

“We could make something with this seal on it. A bracelet or a necklace, maybe. Show our respective sides and tell them that that’s how we’re keeping each other quiet. So it would make  _ sense _ that we would let each other go every once in awhile. To keep the other side from getting too suspicious.”

“Oh, I like that.” Crowley said. The gears were turning now, and he couldn’t deny the appeal Aziraphale’s plan. The only problem was convincing their respective sides that they could always get each other  _ back _ , after they’d been let go.

Aziraphale turned the page. 

“And this sigil can forcibly teleport any Angel or Demon whose name is spoken, as long as they’re wearing a copy of the sigil. I suppose we’ll have to put that on the bracelet as well.”

“Are we calling them friendship bracelets?” Crowley asked. 

“We can if you’d like.” Aziraphale responded. Crowley pointedly did not admit that he would like that very much. 

Aziraphale turned another page in the book slowly as he thought, tapping his foot against the old rug. He was clearly deep in thought, planning for every eventuality. Crowley felt the  _ reality _ of the situation suddenly hit him.

“We… Might really be doing this.” Crowley said, slowly. 

“There are still some details to work out.” Aziraphale pointed out, walking quickly back towards his recliner. Crowley followed, and sat back down on the couch. Aziraphale flipped idly through the book. Crowley thought, trying to find the holes in the plan. They would need to find them in order to patch them up.

It didn’t take him long to realize that they were missing a large part of the puzzle.

“What are we going to tell Hell I’m doing with you?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book, contemplating it for a moment. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.” 

~~~

Anathema was minding her own business.

Her life with Newton had become a simple routine. He would head off to work in the early mornings, and she would go and tend to the garden for a little while before performing earth-shattering rituals which would shake the very foundations of reality and leave the nearby Supernatural entities shaking in their boots. Y’know. The usual. 

Anathema was learning comprehensive spiritual self-defense. And intended to one day teach it to her own army. If angels and demons could cause the world to almost end, humans had damn well better get with the times and learn how to defend themselves, she reckoned. 

She sat on a blanket in the backyard, frowning at the books she had splayed around her. She shifted so that her legs were sticking out, and the soft, wet grass tickled her bare feet. She was happy. 

And she was incredibly bored. 

She just had to keep reminding herself that it wouldn’t be like this forever. She was training, now. She would counteract the forces of heaven and hell, travel the world, pass on her knowledge and fight against the proverbial machine in just a few months’ time. 

She  _ had _ to.  _ Someone _ had to. 

But for now, she would have to study day in and day out to build her skill.

There was a light rap on her front door, and Anathema stood immediately, peering around the house to see if she could see anything. She couldn’t. 

Leaving her books scattered in the grass and over her blanket, she ran through the house in her bare feet and barely stopped before she reached the door. She took a moment to compose herself, pushing up her glasses before she reached out and grabbed the door handle, pulling it open. 

She stared at the pair in front of her. Shock shot down her spine.

“Oh?” She asked, head tilting. “...To what do I owe this... pleasure?”

“Hello,” Aziraphale said. Crowley was looking pointedly disinterested beside him. “I was wondering if you might help us with a couple of sigils.”

Anathema considered this for a moment before her mind flickered back towards the unread books that waited for her back in the yard. If she didn’t help with this, she would end up dying of boredom before the end of the day. She needed a break.

“Well… You two did just save the world.” She said, nodding. “I’ll do you one better, in fact. How would you like to come in for a cup of tea?”

Aziraphale stepped inside, and Crowley stepped in after him. Aziraphale walked ahead. She followed after them, directing Aziraphale to the kitchen. 

“It’s on the left ahead of you, Dear.” She said. Aziraphale turned to the left and clapped his hands in delight before walking through the door, heading straight for the table with a distinguished pep in his step.

Him and Crowley sat while Anathema heated the kettle on the stove. She had really grown an appetite for tea since coming to the UK. 

The pot began to whistle, and Anathema grabbed it by the handle, pouring the tea into three cups, already prepared with a bag of tea waiting along the bottom. She carefully carried two of the cups on their saucers through the kitchen, setting them down in front of Aziraphale and Crowley. She returned to grab her own and sat down at the head of the table. She peered over her glasses, looking at the papers they had set in front of her. 

“Alright, then,” She said, squinting. She pushed her tea aside and grabbed one. “What have we got here?”

Aziraphale was too busy loading his tea up with the sugar cubes to notice that they had begun, so Crowley reluctantly initiated their half of the conversation. 

“Aziraphale here came up with an idea, and we need your help to execute it. You see, these sigils affect angels and demons. So we aren’t sure whether or not we  _ can _ make them. At least, not if we want them to work. Humans designed them, and we think they might need to be enacted by a human.”

“These sigils  _ affect angels and demons _ ?” Anathema asked, her jaw dropping open. Her head was suddenly swimming with possibility. She put the papers down and stared at them, trying to gauge whether or not they were telling the truth. 

These would be  _ perfect _ for her training. 

“What are they for?!” She asked, excitedly. 

“Well, Dear,” Aziraphale had broken out of his flavor-induced haze and joined the conversation, “One of them we need put on a charm and affixed to a rope. It will limit our powers.”

Anathema looked up, her eyebrows shooting upwards. If they hadn’t been attached to her face, she was fairly certain that they would have reached the stratosphere. When neither of them responded to her nonverbal accusation, she decided to make it a little more obvious. “I hope you two have already discussed your safeword.”

It took the two of them a few more seconds to catch up with where she was going.

“It’s nothing like that!” Aziraphale said. 

“It’s beans.” Crowley counteracted. Aziraphale looked at him with indignation. 

“I wouldn’t use anything other than the green-yellow-red method, I do beg your pardon. It’s by far the most logical and efficient.”

Crowley paused, and seemed surprised. Anathema knew that she was. When she had made that joke, she hadn’t actually expected that the two would be versed in the subject. Then again, maybe that really  _ was _ what they needed the rope for. 

“To bring the conversation back to topic,” Aziraphale said, and turned towards Anathema, “We need them to convince heaven and hell that we’re holding each other captive.”

“What, like some sort of weird little roleplay?” Anathema pushed.

“Yeah, except we get fired if we break character.” Crowley responded.

“We’re going to convince Heaven that I’m holding Crowley captive, and convince Hell that he’s holding me. That way, they won’t think that we’re committing treason if we’re ever spotted together.”

Anathema tried to connect the dots on that logic, but found herself not quite hitting the mark. Still, she was sure that they had thought it through if they had decided to bring this to her already. Surely, the two of them wouldn’t drastically under-think their plans. Surely. 

“Seems unnecessarily complicated.” Anathema said. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s stupid.” Crowley said, sighing as he leaned back. 

“All the best plans are.” Anathema countered, faithful that Aziraphale knew what he was doing. She looked down at the three sigils before her. “Which one needs to be affixed to the rope?”

It wasn’t long until Anathema had the plans drawn up and the charms laid out. She was carefully tracing the runes with a tiny jar of red paint, the bracelets sitting to one side. 

“You know, you didn’t have to buy the bracelets. I’ve got plenty of jewelery making stuff right here.” She gestured around her. A witch wouldn’t be caught  _ dead _ without craft supplies.

“We wouldn’t want to intrude any more than necessary.” Aziraphale argued. 

“And they were having a sale at Claires.” Crowley informed her, sarcastically. Anathema ignored him.

“Please, intrude all you like.” Anathema invited. “I’m bored out of my mind here most of the time. I used to spend all my time trying to decode Agnes’ prophecies. Now, I’m just studying all day.”

“College?” Aziraphale asked, hopefully. Anathema scoffed. 

“The modern education system is set up to disadvantage people who aren’t monetarily privileged. You gain almost nothing from it if you aren’t going into a STEM field.”

“That’s a no, then?” Crowley questioned.

“I’m studying ways to thwart the darkness or the light should the apocalypse ever descend upon us again.” Anathema informed them.

“Aaah, so just a bit of light reading.” Crowley sassed. Anathema ignored him yet again, noting that she was making a habit of it. Getting back to work on finishing up their sigils, she lightly brushed over the smooth metal, careful not to make a mistake. She stared at them for a few seconds longer than she had to, making one-hundred-percent certain that they were correct. 

She was also memorizing them to furiously scribble down as soon as Aziraphale and Crowley left. 

She blew on the completed rune, the small metal charm glistening in the light. “Did you bring anything that we could seal this with?”

“I didn’t think about that part.” Aziraphale said. “Do you have anything that will do?”

Anathema rose and moved towards the counter to begin rummaging through her kitchen drawers one at a time. Finally, she found it; plastic coating spray. She walked over to the completed charms, covered her mouth with her sleeve, and sprayed a fine mist. As soon as she was finished, she hopped over to the window and threw it open, letting the fumes vent out. 

“We’ll need to wait a minute for those to dry on that side before we can start on the other,” She informed them. “And I think the same might need to go for your plan.”

“We need to… Do the other side?” Aziraphale asked, frowning in confusion. “I’m not following.”

“No, you might want to  _ wait a minute _ .” Anathema said, sighing. She collected her thoughts, turning it over carefully before she decided what she needed to say. “I just don’t want you two to arouse more suspicion by trying to get ahead of the game. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea. I’m just saying that you both need to make sure you have your stories, your  _ explanations _ , air tight. Make sure you’ve gone over every detail.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale commented. “The plan is still in development.”

“I hope you keep developing it,” Anathema said, a warning in her voice. “Rushing in too quickly could bring all of this toppling over.”

She lightly tapped the front of the charms, finding that the plastic had dried smoothly. She turned them over one by one before spraying the other side.

~~~ 

In the car, Crowley forced himself to tap on the brakes. Aziraphale looked absolutely ashen in the seat beside him, his fingers digging into the leather interior. The sun shone through the window. Crowley saw Aziraphale begin to relax as the speedometer took on a more reasonable sixty miles per hour.

“I’ve been thinking about what Anathema said,” Aziraphale mentioned. “And I think she might have had the right idea.”

Crowley blinked. Wasn’t that obvious?

“Well of course she does. Waiting until we have it all figured out is the only way to be sure that we don’t contradict ourselves.”

“No, not about that.” Aziraphale said. “I mean, yes, of course, about that as well. But I’m actually referring to the safeword comment.”

Crowley turned to Aziraphale, shocked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have to tell Hell that you’re corrupting me somehow.” Aziraphale argued. “And sexual deviancy is definitely thought by most to be a corruptive process- it isn’t, I know some  _ very _ kinky angels, but Hell wouldn’t question it for a moment.”

Crowley desperately willed his uncooperative brain to catch up to where Aziraphale was. He knew what the Angel was saying in  _ theory _ , but every time he tried to make himself  _ believe _ it, it was like he was short-circuiting. 

“So you want me to tell hell that we’re fucking?”

“I want you to tell Hell that I’m letting you do whatever you want to my body.” Aziraphale responded. “We already have the rope, if they need a demonstration.”

“ _ Demonstration? _ ” Crowley squeaked. Suddenly, some very compromising thoughts thrust their way directly to the forefront of his imagination. 

“Yes. I suppose they’ll want to see your setup. And since we’re telling heaven that I’m occasionally torturing you, the presence of any…  _ sadistic tools _ would make perfect sense. We could probably use the same setup for both… Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“No.” Crowley said, honestly.

Crowley thought about it for a moment. 

Aziraphale  _ had _ been the one to suggest it. And if he knew about the green/yellow/red method of safewording, then he was probably somewhat educated on the topic. Crowley had dabbled in sexual deviancy once or twice (or a thousand times, but who’s counting?) so it’s not like he wouldn’t know what to do.

And… Well, Crowley would be a bit of an idiot not to take the opportunity. He had been in love with Aziraphale since the garden, and this would be a bit of a dream come true. 

“We’ll talk about it.” He responded. “I’m not necessarily saying ‘yes’, there are some things that we might need to work out if we’re going to talk about giving Hell a…. Er, a  _ demonstration _ . What is and isn’t on the table, and a way to get ourselves out of a situation we’re not comfortable with, even if Hell is watching.”

“We can’t very well use the colors method in front of Beelzebub if we want it to seem enthusiastic,” Aziraphale agreed. “But I’ve actually read some handbooks that suggest the use of an object as a safeword. Like a little buzzer attached to our palm, or a handkerchief we could hold and then drop if it gets to be too much.”

“...How much reading have you done on the subject?” Crowley asked, running his hands along the steering wheel. He used the sensation to distract him from the prickling warmth that threatened to give him a semi.

“I have a fair amount of real-world experience.” Aziraphale admitted. “Though I do have the tendency to be on the dominant side of the spectrum, so the role-switching will be a little unusual for me.” 

Crowley had to run that by himself several times before processing it, again, and he wondered whether or not his brain was malfunctioning. 

Aziraphale… fucks? 

Actually, he doesn’t  _ just _ fuck. He’s  _ kinky _ about it. And right now, their best hope of spending any time together involves them building a dungeon and convincing hell itself that they were fucking like rabbits. 

“I’m not going to lie, this is catching me a little off guard.”

“Me too.” Aziraphale admitted, sheepishly. “I never thought I’d be having conversations of this nature with you. But I do trust you, Crowley.”

Crowley’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he figured that it was a good thing he didn’t technically need it to function correctly. 

“I trust you, too.” He told Aziraphale, honestly. 

Crowley hoped that that would be enough to get them through the mild awkwardness of the conversations that were sure to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to follow me on tumblr, my URL is [MysticMoonhigh](MysticMoonhigh.tumblr.com). You can also feel free to chat with me!! I'd be happy to talk about kinks if you're 18+!  
> Comments give me life and remind me that there is still good in the world


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty folks, strap in! In this first little section here, I mention a few kinks that will come up later in the fic, so consider this first little part a bit of foreshadowing. Without further ado, enjoy!

Crowley kneeled on the hardwood floor of Aziraphale’s bedroom.

Aziraphale turned out to have more than just books on the subject. He had a lot of what they would need. As Crowley curiously sifted through the contents of Aziraphale’s box of sin, he found whips, nipple clamps, cock rings, an absolutely baffling pair of ears and a tail, and paddles. And that wasn’t even the half of it.

He kept going, pulling out a few different collars, and a leash. 

“You’ve done more than a little bit of dabbling,” Crowley accused. Aziraphale was red all the way from his toes to his nose, Crowley was sure of it. Mostly because he could see the nose part, and it was pretty damn red. 

“I’ve only had a few recent sexual partners, but they’ve all been very open.” Aziraphale said. “The last two-hundred years or so have been interesting, to say the least.”

Crowley picked up a sounding rod, and his jaw dropped. 

“Not even I’ve experimented with this!” He said, sputtering. “Angel, you have certainly been a little less than angelic.” 

Aziraphale covered his face with his hands. “If you ever tell anyone that this came from me, I’ll never talk to you again.”

Crowley picked up a prostate vibrator and turned it on. It buzzed in his hand. 

“So, what’s the buzz around town?” He asked, intentionally being unbearable. 

“If you make one more pun, I will personally escort you from the house.”

“Oh, so now I’m just a personal escort?” Crowley asked. “Honestly Aziraphale I thought that this relationship meant more to you.”

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale said. “Let’s just get these things in the car and go. We need to start setting up. The sooner we can get everything sorted out, the better. Heaven and hell needn’t wait.” 

“I don’t know how I never picked up on it before,” Crowley lamented, picking the box up and beginning to carry it down the stairs of the bookshop. “You’ve always been so good at bossing people around. I’m not surprised to find out that it was a personal hobby.”

~~~ 

One short car ride later, and they were at Crowley’s house. Crowley unloaded Aziraphale’s box, carrying it inside. They had both agreed that his house would be the best place for the setup; Crowley had a couple of empty rooms, and they could use one for Aziraphale’s personal space, and one for their combination sex-ant-torture dungeon.

And, wow, that got weirder and weirder every time he thought about it. 

Aziraphale came around and grabbed a box of his personal items-- a couple of books, some old wine, a pile of oversized sweaters that the big goof was fond of. 

They had decided that for safety’s sake, it would be better if they lived together. At the very least, for the beginning of this arrangement. Their respective arrangements were certain to raise some eyebrows. They wanted to be ready for anything at any time. 

But both of them figured that it would be old news in a couple of months, max. And then they’d have an excuse for continuously being seen together, and the world would be a better and brighter place where they could go dine at the Ritz  _ once a week _ if they wanted. 

“Alright, put your things in the living room.” Crowley said. He carried the box of lewd items to the basement, putting it inside the “personal gym” that had come with the place. There was even an elliptical that Crowley had folded up and shoved in the closet. 

Like he always said, humans came up with plenty of ways to make themselves miserable. 

He had already gotten online and ordered a St. Andrew’s cross, which was basically two long pieces of lumber that intersected in the middle and had places to secure your submissive. He figured it would add to the general ambiance of the place.

But the chair was far more likely to be used than the cross.

Aziraphale had suggested the presence of a bed; they could tell the legions of hell that this was where Crowley fucked all the holiness from Aziraphale, and they could tell the armies of heaven that of course Aziraphale wasn’t a monster, Crowley had his own bed to sleep in and everything. 

Not that heaven would care about a prisoner’s comfort either way. But Aziraphale did care about those things, and its presence  _ might _ just help convince Gabriel that Aziraphale really had broken and taken Crowley prisoner. 

Crowley had managed to convince Aziraphale that the sheets of said bed should be vantablack, which absolutely set off the white walls in the room. The contrast made it look a lot more cold and unwelcoming than it was, which was exactly what they needed. 

Plus, it was just a really fucking cool color. 

Crowley would have ordered his own sheets in vantablack if it had existed when he bought them. 

Aziraphale followed him down the stairs. He dropped his personal belongings off in “his” room, and then came back around. He stuck his head in the doorway as Crowley was dumping his box of sin out onto the bed. 

“We should probably sort all of this into “things the angels shouldn’t see” and “things everyone should see”. 

“I think that’s probably for the best.” Aziraphale agreed. He waved his hand, and suddenly, there was a row of hooks along the far wall. “We should probably hang up what would best be put on display.”

“And the rest of it can stay in the box underneath the bed. Or be put in the wardrobe.” Crowley proposed, nodding to himself. They couldn’t use the closet; that’s where the eliptical was. He turned to Aziraphale. “This is yours, so I won’t mess with anything you don’t want me to.”

“It’s all been sanitized.” Aziraphale informed him. “You’re allowed to touch anything that you’d like. But if you’d rather, I’d be more than happy to handle them.”

That was when Crowley noticed the bottle of toy cleaner on the bed. It had tumbled out with the toys, along with a small bottle of anal lubricant. He picked both of those up and threw them back into the box. 

“I’m still having trouble processing the fact that you’ve used all of this.” Crowley said. It wasn’t exactly polite conversation, but it was certainly relevant. His entire perception of Aziraphale had been drastically altered over the past twenty four hours. 

Of course, it didn’t make Crowley love him any less. 

“Oh, I haven’t used  _ all _ of it.” Aziraphale said. “Much of it I’d collected between my last encounter and now. Just… Things I gained an interest in.”

Crowley picked up the white cat ears and tail. The tail was attached to a ribbon, clearly designed to be worn around the waist.

“This?” Crowley asked, uncertain of whether or not he wanted to know the answer. 

“Mostly something a man I was seeing about a hundred years ago had a fancy for. I enjoyed it immensely when we partook in petplay, but the ears and tail are fairly new. I just wanted to have them in case I found another partner who had similar interests.” Aziraphale shrugged. “That kind of quality costuming wasn’t around back then.”

“Oh.” Crowley said, putting them in the box. He grabbed a couple of the paddles that Aziraphale had (one of them said ‘slut’ along the side in large cutout letters, and Crowley could tell that it would leave behind a mark if used correctly) and one of the whips. He walked them over to the wall and hung them up one by one. 

Aziraphale had been… relatively calm about all of this. Crowley wondered what had changed. Had their relationship evolved? Had he gained more of the Angel’s trust? More of  _ his _ Angel’s trust? He couldn’t imagine Aziraphale telling him about all of this thirty years ago.

Crowley finished with the whips and paddles and stepped back to look over his handiwork. They had a little ikea table upstairs to set up so they could put more “torture” impliments on it (an electrostim wand as well as some nipple clamps and a pair of rusty pliers that Crowley scrounged up just for the torture aesthetic). 

“Do you think it’s good enough?” Aziraphale fretted, looking at the setup with his eyebrows drawn together. “I’m afraid that Heaven might know some of these aren’t necessarily just for pain.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only angel on the face of the planet who knows what nipple clamps are for, Angel. It won’t be too hard to convince them that you’re using them for torture purposes.” Crowley stated, plainly. Honestly it was… kind of adorable that Aziraphale was worried about that. “I think this is more than good enough for now.”

“Alright,” Aziraphale relented, “I’m going to go upstairs and start getting the rest of my things. Is there anything you’d like?”

“I’m good. I’ll just… be in here. Processing.”

“See you for lunch in an hour?”

“Of course. Would I make you skip a meal?”

~~~ 

Aziraphale was a nervous disaster, and he felt certain that he wasn’t hiding it well. 

The sudden (if not uninvited) intrusion of Crowley into his personal life was definitely a change. He knew theoretically that a demon was not likely to judge his sexual tastes, but Crowley even  _ knowing _ that he had sexual tastes was a big step. 

Aziraphale grabbed his box of books and began to unload it onto the book shelf Crowley had undoubtedly miracled into the spare room just for him. He had a few classics, some poetry, some old-school science fiction, and every novel Jane Austen had ever written. (He loved the way she handled romance). 

When he was finished, he moved onto his clothes. He didn’t have many of them, but what he did have, he took care of. Aziraphale unpacked his trousers and sweaters and vests with careful movements, hanging each and every article in the closet. 

One could argue that he was keeping his mind busy with the task. Trying to push out any unwelcome thoughts. 

By the time Crowley called “Lunch!” he had already unpacked his entire wardrobe and had moved on to alphabetizing his record collection.

As soon as he hear Crowley’s voice, he skittered to a halt. 

He heard Crowley conversing with a delivery man and Aziraphale wandered outside and up the stairs, curious as to what Crowley had gotten for them. 

Aziraphale was delighted to find that it was sushi.

Crowley sat the bag down on the counter and emptied it of its contents, setting the soy sauce and wasabi aside. Aziraphale eagerly reached for the wasabi, opening his container and using his chopsticks to give himself a generous helping. 

“Isn’t that too spicy?” Crowley asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“I like spicy.” Aziraphale defended. He might have had the body of a British man, but he certainly did  _ not _ share the basic British taste buds. Aziraphale had yet to find a spice that he didn’t like. 

“Oh, I think the contents of the room downstairs already made it clear that you like things spicy.” Crowley responded, his voice thick-laden with innuendo. 

Aziraphale blushed heavily. “Surely no spicier than you.”

Crowley blinked up at him incredulously. 

That was when Aziraphale realized that one or both of them might be getting in over their heads. 

Crowley looked away, shoveling a bite of sushi into his mouth. When he did eat, Crowley had the tendency to scarf it all down. Aziraphale had chastised him for wasting the taste a hundred times before, and he was fairly certain that Crowley had swallowed even faster just to annoy him whenever he did. 

Aziraphale took a bite of his own food, apprehension churning in his stomach. He tried to work out what to say; he knew he had to say something. Him and Crowley were going to be fake-torturing/ fake-fucking each other soon, and he had to make sure they were going to be able to handle it. 

He… He had to know if his  _ interests _ had, for lack of a better term, freaked Crowley out.

“You know,” He said, keeping his eyes firly locked on his sushi, “You don’t have to do this, if it makes you uncomfortable. I understand it might… Change your opinion of me, and I don’t want that interfering with our friendship. We can always come up with something else.”

Crowley was quiet for a long time. 

“My opinion of you has never changed in a way that didn’t make me like you more.” He finally said. His voice came out quiet, almost like he was pretending that Aziraphale couldn’t hear him. But there was still something in his voice, something that was going unsaid. 

“But…?” Aziraphale asked, trying to coax it out of him. Crowley sighed. 

“But I  _ am _ worried about  _ you _ getting uncomfortable.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms, giving a small huff. “Honestly, Crowley. It isn’t much good if we’re  _ both _ worried about each other.”

“Right, might look a little too nervous while we’re doing the whole sex and torture bit. Definitely don’t want that.” Crowley said, sarcastically. 

“We want the nerves to be a show!” Aziraphale said, baffled. “I just don’t want you to  _ actually _ be uncomfortable. We have to have this conversation, Crowley.”

“I was trying to!” Crowley exclaimed, defensively. “I said I was nervous about you! And you didn’t take it well!”

Aziraphale felt the anger dissipate as he realized that Crowley was right. He was still… How you put it,  _ vaguely miffed _ , but he understood where Crowley was coming from. Right now, they needed to work together. He needed to… trust. Trust that Crowley would be honest with him about what felt like too far. 

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said, after what felt like a long time. “I suppose I thought you were avoiding talking about your own limits by switching the conversation to mine.”

“I…” Crowley sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “I guess it was a little of that, too. We really need to find a way for us to go about this.”

“We need to find a way to talk it out without embarrassing ourselves.” Aziraphale said, giving a soft sigh. “We almost need a test run.”

“A test run?” Crowley asked, his head snapping up. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale explained, “A test run is when you-”

“Oh, I bloody hell know what a test run is.” Crowley said, waving him off. “I’m just wondering what it would look like in this context.” 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. 

“Maybe we could try… Testing the limits and figuring out what is and isn’t okay in a safer setting? Without either of our bosses present?” Aziraphale suggested. He reached up and loosened his bowtie; he was beginning to get a little bit hot under the collar. “And we could have a checklist printed out beforehand. We can circle things we’re sure we’d be okay with, ex-out things we wouldn’t be, and leave the maybes blank.”

“And we’ll do what we’re sure of, and discuss what we aren’t.” Crowley added. Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. 

“And we’ll promise to be  _ honest _ with one another.” Aziraphale emphasized. “Because  _ both of our comfort levels are equally important. _ ” 

Crowley’s eyes dropped down, a little guilty. There was a long pause, and Aziraphale hoped fervently that he wasn’t going to apologize, because Crowley hadn’t actually done anything wrong. The demon’s guilt complex was… potent. 

“Sounds good to me.” He agreed.

~~~ 

That was how they ended up standing in the “dungeon”, Aziraphale feeling exposed even as he stood there fully clothed. Not that feeling exposed was a  _ bad _ thing. 

“Alright, so…” Crowley started, gesturing towards him. “We should probably start pretty basic.”

“Oh yes, surely. The basics sound lovely.” Aziraphale said, nodding awkwardly. He really didn’t want to be the one to suggest what the basics  _ were _ , just in case he was terribly off. Aziraphale had been a bit of a hedonist from the get-go.

“Hell will probably want to see something at least partially substantial.” Crowley mused, putting his hand up to his chin and rubbing it in thought. “What do you usually do when these things happen?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, thinking. “First, we take each other’s clothes off.”

Aziraphale desperately wished that Crowley’s sunglasses were off, so he could get a better gauge of his reaction to these things. Crowley’s mouth opened, but no sound came out of it the first time. He swallowed, and tried again. 

“Okay, do you, um…” Crowley asked, “Do you want me to take your clothes off?”

“If you’re comfortable with that.” Aziraphale confirmed.

Crowley stepped forward. His heat was tangible, the hellfire that ran through his veins radiating towards Aziraphale and seeping into his skin as Crowley slowly reached up, the bare skin of his knuckles brushing against Aziraphale’s collarbone as he slowly undid the first button. 

His lithe, thin hands trailed down Aziraphale’s chest slowly, leaving a steady blush flowering across Aziraphale’s skin wherever he touched. 

Aziraphale had never been more grateful for the thousands of years he had to build up his self-control, because he was miraculously not hard yet when Crowley reached the button of his pants. 

Crowley’s fingers hesitated, and Aziraphale realized that his breath had hitched at the first brush of Crowley’s hand against his hip bone. 

“I’m fine.” He reassured, “As long as you are.”

Crowley responded by popping open the button of his jeans, and Aziraphale let out a shaky breath. Crowley’s hands skitted upwards, grabbing his shirt and slowly pushing it down over his shoulders. It fell to the floor, and Aziraphale’s top was fully exposed. 

“Are you still doing okay?” Crowley questioned. Aziraphale nodded his head, not trusting himself to form words as he was being undressed by  _ Crowley _ . 

Crowley’s hands moved downwards, grasping at the hem of Aziraphale’s jeans. He pushed them down slowly, and the sensual glide of his hands against Airaphale’s legs made him weak at the knees. 

When they were finally down to Aziraphale’s feet, Crowley pulled back, allowing Aziraphale to step out of them. 

“How about you?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly. This surprised even him, as he hadn’t realized he was going to speak until he had. “Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m great.” Crowley said. “Really terrific. What’s next?”

“I suppose I should disrobe you as well?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley looked stunned again, but recovered quickly.

“Mhmm. Sounds like a plan, Angel.” He confirmed. 

Aziraphale reached out with trembling hands, starting with Crowley’s bottom button, and slowly working his way to the top. He kept glancing up, trying to get a read on what was on Crowley’s mind, and finding that he couldn’t. He couldn’t even see where Crowley was  _ looking _ , damn it. 

Aziraphale finished the last button of Crowley’s shirt, and his hands drifted further upwards of their own accord. His hands softly brushed Crowley’s cheekbones, and Aziraphale stared his own reflection down in Crowley’s eyeglasses as he began to tug at them. Crowley’s jaw tensed, and Aziraphale hesitated.

“Can I take these off? I… Like seeing your eyes.” Aziraphale explained. Crowley’s confused expression reddened, and he looked away pointedly. 

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Crowley mumbled, “Just get on with it. It’s a disrobing, not a strip tease.”

Aziraphale’s hands dug under the shoulders of Crowley’s shirt, pushing it off. Aziraphale’s hands lingered just a little longer than necessary against his soft skin, feeling Crowley’s shoulder muscles taught beneath his fingers. He was tense. 

“Relax, Dear.” Aziraphale said, gently. Crowley visibly relaxed, letting out a shaky breath. Aziraphale’s hands drifted further down, hesitating only briefly before reaching the button on Crowley’s pants. He pulled the to sides together before popping the button free. He let go, allowing the pants to loosen. 

He grabbed either side, gently, before he pushed them down Crowley’s thighs. They were significantly tighter than his own pants, and he had to be careful not to take Crowley’s underwear with him on accident.

The intimacy hovered between them as Aziraphale backed up, allowing Crowley room to step out of his pants. Crowley took a step forward, and they looked each other in the eyes. Time seemed to stop. Aziraphale didn’t know how long it lasted. 

“What’s the next sssstep?” Crowley asked, his serpent half accidentally slipping through. Aziraphale smiled fondly.

“Well, um…” Aziraphale thought. “Usually, kissing. And touching. Would that be okay with you?”

A look of utter conflict took over Crowley’s face as Aziraphale waited anxiously for a response. Time dragged on, and Aziraphale regretted what he said more every second that passed.

“Just not on the mouth.” Crowley said, finally. “We probably... shouldn’t do that.”

Aziraphale felt disappointment that he pointedly didn’t explore rise up. He squished it down, nodding. He could respect Crowley’s wishes. After all, this was supposed to be fake. Aziraphale had to keep reminding himself of that. 

They were doing this out of circumstance. 

“Do you want to initiate it? So you set the boundaries?”

“Yes.” Crowley said, his voice barely a whisper. Aziraphale shivered as Crowley’s eyes took him in, roaming over his skin with a kind of hunger that Aziraphale had never allowed himself to imagine in them. 

Aziraphale hoped desperately that he wasn’t just imagining it now.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. He felt rather than saw it when Crowley stepped forward. He opened his eyes as Crowley leaned down, nuzzling at his neck. Aziraphale immediately tilted his head, making room for him. 

Crowley’s soft lips placed a single kiss on his neck, and it was like fire streaked through Aziraphale’s body. 

Aziraphale let out a soft noise; he tried to contain it, he really did. But it was, apparently, the correct thing to do. 

Crowley’s hands landed on his hips, and Crowley stepped even closer. A longer trail of kisses was left in between his jaw and his shoulder, making his lips  _ ache _ with want. Crowley’s lips kissed their way back up, stopping by his ear.

“Is this okay so far?” He asked. 

Aziraphale’s arms came up to wrap around Crowley’s shoulders, and he pulled their bodies closer together. Crowley  _ must _ have been enjoying it, if the hard press of his cock against Aziraphale’s leg was any indication. 

Then again, Aziraphale supposed he could have miracled it there. It would make it more believable, once they were to the actual deception part of their ruse. Crowley could be practicing more thoroughly than Aziraphale had originally anticipated. 

Crowley kissed back down again, bending to reach Aziraphale’s collar bone. Aziraphale turned to absolute putty in his arms, feeling his own cock fill with arousal. He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Crowley pulled away, looking into Aziraphale’s eyes sharply. His breath hitched, and Aziraphale found himself suddenly, painfully aware of his arousal as Crowley went back to work, this time kissing  _ down Aziraphale’s stomach _ . 

Crowley kissed down, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale’s hands somehow ended up tangled in his hair, and he gave a soft pull as his body shook. Crowley cursed softly, and Aziraphale filed that under the ‘useful’ category in his brain. 

Crowley’s hands tugged at the band of his underwear, hunger in his eyes as he looked at Aziraphale’s bulge. 

_ Wow, _ Aziraphale thought,  _ He’s a very good actor. _

“Wh--What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked, his head swimming with the possibilites. 

Crowley seemed to suddenly remember that this was just the first round of practice, because he stood very fast after that, looking off to the side.

“Sorry,” Crowley coughed. “I, uh… Think that that might be far enough for today. I’ll… See you at dinner?” 

Crowley collected his things quickly, his skinny jeans and button-up swooped off of the floor before Aziraphale could blink. He turned, giving Aziraphale an amazing view of his ass as he walked away. Aziraphale was almost too distracted by the sight to “I have some very important things to get to that I just remembered, so don’t bother me!”

Crowley practically sprinted down the hallway. Aziraphale could hear the frantic footsteps. 

“...Alright then?” Aziraphale said, to no one in particular. He shook his head. 

What he wouldn’t give sometimes to have an idea of what Crowley was thinking.

~~~ 

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK _ ! 

This was an exact transcript of Crowley’s thoughts. 

_ Shit. Fuck. Oh my Satan. I’m going to melt. I’m a demon, and I’m melting like the wicked witch of the fucking west. _

Crowley ran into his bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him.

He just needed a good few minutes to fantasize about what could have happened in that room just then. And then he needed to fuck his fist. Desperately. 

Crowley stayed firmly holed up inside his bedroom for the next few hours, doing exactly that. (Human refractory periods be damned). By the time dinner had actually come around, he was feeling satisfied and tired. He forced himself out of bed by reminding himself that it would make Aziraphale happy. 

Besides. They were probably going to look over the official checklist now, and Crowley knew that he wouldn’t regret venturing out once they had. He was curious as all hell as to what all Aziraphale was into. 

He stepped out of his room, walking briskly to the kitchen and opening the fridge. He bent down, narrowing his eyes at the abysmal selection of snacks that he had. He picked up the cheese and veggie plate he had gotten for them and sat it out on the counter. 

Crowley realized that he didn’t have anything ordered yet, and sighed deeply. All he had in his fridge was basic snack food, and even that was relatively new. He was going to have to go out and buy some things for the two of them. But for now… 

Well, one miracle couldn’t really hurt, could it?

Crowley snapped his fingers, and a steaming bag of chinese food appeared on the counter. 

“Aziraphale?” He called. “Are you ready for dinner?”

Aziraphale was there faster than he could unpack the first entre, setting a folder down on the table between them. Crowley’s curiosity was piqued, but he decided not to ask unless Aziraphale offered.

Crowley glanced at him fondly as he slid the sweet-and-sour chicken across the table.

Aziraphale grabbed the chopsticks Crowley had sat on the counter and dug in, taking bites and chewing them meticulously. 

Crowley assumed that he was letting the sweet and sour sauce coat his palate, or something that would sound equally obnoxious if it was said aloud. 

Crowley finished his food quickly, and set the empty container off to the side. He pretended to be looking around Aziraphale and towards the living room, but occasionally snuck glances of his Angel’s blissed-out face. 

It didn’t take as long for Aziraphale to finish eating. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s attention with that simple word, and Crowley watched his hands as they scooped up the folder, “I think it’s time for us to fill out those lists. I found one that looked very helpful on a human fetish website.”

Crowley nodded but didn’t verbally respond, pretending to be thoughtful. Really, he only had one thought, which was hardly enough to be considered thought- _ full _ . 

It was a big thought, to be fair. 

“Here you are,” Aziraphale said, sliding a list across the table to him. “Most of the terms are explained, in case you don’t know them.”

“I think I’ll know most of them.” Crowley stated, plainly. The list was typed out meticulously-- there were at  _ least _ fifty things on the page, and Aziraphale had clearly added to it. Crowley knew this because the font changed ever so slightly towards the end of the list, and it included things that humans would not be able to physically do. 

Crowley circled a few quickly, taking what stood out to him at face value. He eagerly encircled everything to do with bondage, impact play, and wax. Those were the things that Crowley knew that he liked. He also circled some things that he knew he wanted to try, like sounding and electrostim. 

He put diligent X’s through things he could tell that he wouldn’t. Spitting, human furniture, skat, vore (which he knew about thanks to a couple of the hipper demons goading him into a google search after they found out he could turn into a snake), he crossed them all off. 

Crowley paused when he got to the section Aziraphale had clearly added himself. His pencil hesitated at  _ wing grooming _ , in particular. He looked up over his glasses towards Aziraphale’s face, and turned the paper around. Using the pencil, he gestured towards them. 

“Have you ever done some of these before?” He asked. Aziraphale actually managed a blush.

“I haven’t, no.” He admitted. “I’ll be leaving them unmarked. I’m curious as to what it might feel like.” 

Crowley pursed his lips, nodding. 

He finished going through the list, noting that Aziraphale had also added sections for “supernatural temptation” and “no refractory period”. 

His brow furrowed at that last one. He was interested in overstimulation so he circled it, but he… Highly doubted things would ever get THAT far. They would likely perform sexual scenarios in front of hell’s goons, but  _ surely _ none of them would go far enough as to induce climax. 

If they ever did make it that far, though, Crowley was certain that he’d never get the image of Aziraphale’s O-face out of his head. It would likely entertain his wildest fantasies for  _ millenia _ to come. 

As if reading his mind, Aziraphale spoke. “I know that some of these are unlikely to be relevant, but I’d just like us to cover all of our bases. If we ever get put in a situation where we want to go further, we’ll know what is and is not off-limits.”

“Smart.” Crowley responded, finally finishing off the paper and setting it aside. Aziraphale’s was already done, and Crowley found himself ducking around the counter so he could look at the Angel’s without taking it from him. 

Aziraphale turned around Crowley’s sheet, and set theirs side by side. His eyes flickered back and forth, and he paused for a moment before taking a third, blank sheet out of the envelope. 

He looked back and forth between their sheets again, this time physically writing the places their circles intersected. Once Zira had finished that, he moved on to copying down the places where one of them had circled and the other had left it blank, noting who circled by scrawling the initials beside it. Finally, Aziraphale wrote down the things that neither of them had circled or crossed out. 

Things that were an absolute no for either of them were left off the list entirely. 

Crowley glanced the list over, feeling his skin subtly heat. 

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a game plan.” He observed, nodding appreciatively. “Are you ready to deceive both heaven and hell?”

Aziraphale’s smile would have been much more becoming of a demon than an angel as he turned towards Crowley, eyes sparkling. God, his happiness made Crowley weak in the knees. 

“Ready whenever you are.” He agreed, nodding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This extra update was so I could share a little extra this week in celebration of turning 21 (wahoo), you'll get another update on Friday!   
> Comments are appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s get a little domestic, folks.

“As with any good play, there needs to be a dress rehearsal.” Aziraphale said, warmly. “Wouldn’t want either of us to get cold feet on opening night.”

He sounded a lot more confident than he actually was. He knew that he was the one who suggested this in the first place, but… He was skating along a very thin line that was rapidly getting thinner. And he had never roller skated before. 

Aziraphale had never felt this strongly for anyone other than Crowley. It wouldn’t have been possible for him to. Humans simply didn’t have the time in their lives to build up the trust and intimacy Crowley and him ad acquired over the last six thousand years in their relationships. 

Aziraphale had tried to find a human that made him feel the way Crowley made him feel. And he’d found plenty that he loved. Just… None so deeply and sweetly as he loved his demon. 

“Yes, yes.” Crowley mumbled. “And I suppose we need to make sure that having a cassette tape read the bible won’t actually hurt me. I don’t know if a demon’s ever been in this situation before.” 

Aziraphale had been the one to suggest the cassette tape. 

“Good point.” Aziraphale agreed. He walked to the hook on the wall that their rope was hanging from, and picked it up. Crowley sat down in the chair without having to be asked, but his legs were crossed. 

Aziraphale began with his left hand, wrapping several lengths around Crowley’s arm for a more even pressure distribution. If the rope was too thin, he could potentially harm Crowley’s vessel. 

“Now, you can say no at any time.” Aziraphale reminded him, tying the first tie with a lark’s head knot. “Or red..” Aziraphale dropped down to his knees, tapping Crowley’s knee politely. “Spread your legs, please. I can’t tie them to the chair when they’re crossed.”

Crowley obediently opened his legs, and Aziraphale had to stop himself from praising him. That was what he was used to in these scenes; Aziraphale  _ loved _ to lavish his submissives with praise. A soft, ‘ _ you’re doing so well’ _ or  _ ‘how splendid’ _ was not uncommon. Crowley had circled ‘praise kink’ on his paper, but, well… That didn’t exactly mesh with what they were doing right now.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale said, instead. His hands began to work at Crowley’s left leg, affixing it firmly to the chair. Once he was finished, he tied that too, too, leaving the left side of Crowley’s body completely immobile. 

Aziraphale glanced up to check on Crowley. Aside from a face that was redder than usual and deep, slow breaths, he looked completely normal.

“Are you doing okay so far?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley had been awfully quiet since they had started. 

“Y-Yes.” Crowley said, nodding. “It’s just been… um, uh…. It’s been awhile. Getting used to it and all.”

“Right, of course.” Aziraphale agreed. 

He picked up the other stretch of rope and put it across Crowley’s other wrist. Slowly, he wrapped round and round, finishing it off with a lark’s head knot to match the other one. This time, before he tied the other ankle, Aziraphale gave a short pause, to allow Crowley time to back out. 

Once his other hand was bound by these ropes, he would no longer be able to use his powers. It would be a total relinquishment of control, a complete transfer to Aziraphale. 

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asked, quietly. Crowley nodded, biting his lip softly with his fangs. 

Aziraphale felt the rope slide along in his hands as he made one last, thick wrap around both Crowley’s limb and the chair, affixing them to one another. 

Nothing felt different. At least, not to Aziraphale. Crowley still looked like Crowley, biting his lip. His breath caught in his throat a little and his head fell back, exposing a stretch of  _ delicious _ skin. Aziraphale thought about what he could do to it, but quickly shook off the thought. This was for a different purpose.

Aziraphale stood, and walked over to the tape recorder. His finger hovered over the play button, suddenly worried that Crowley would burst into flame the moment he pressed play. Then again, Crowley had walked on consecrated ground before, and the worst thing that hearing the Bible read aloud had ever done to a demon before was exorcise them. 

“Are you ready?” Aziraphale questioned. 

“Mmmm, yeah.” Crowley agreed. Aziraphale looked him up and down, drinking in his disheveled state. Crowley’s hair was mussed and his shirt was rumpled, his pants tight around his-

Oh. Oh  _ my _ . Crowley did, it seemed, enjoy this. At least a little. 

The thought of it gave Aziraphale a rush, and he filed that feeling away for future assessment. 

He forced himself to get back on track, pressing play on the recording. 

“ _ In the beginning _ ,” The tape read. Aziraphale studied Crowley’s face intensely, searching for any sign of pain. 

“It’s like a warm tingle. It hurts, but not enough to cause a ruckus over.” Crowley informed him, becoming a little more lucid. He flexed his hands in their bindings, and shifted to get more comfortable. Aziraphale would be lying if he said he had missed the way Crowley’s breath hitched as his jeans rubbed up against his erection. 

Aziraphale really wished he didn’t have to say anything about it. 

“You’re hard.” He pointed out. Crowley’s face got redder as he froze completely. 

“I mean- Yes?” Crowley responded, like a question. “I have a...  _ thing, _ for restraints. And I can’t use a miracle to get rid of it right now. Magic block and all.”

“We’re going to have to come up with some way to prevent that from happening around heaven.” Aziraphale said. “If they think you’re getting a boner for the bible, they’ll surely know you aren’t being interrogated.”

“Mmmm...Hmmmmm.” Crowley responded, his voice raising an octave between the beginning and end of the noises. His train of thought was most certainly off the rails. 

“We could try a chastity device?” Aziraphale suggested, frowning. “Or you could make sure you’re always…  _ thoroughly satisfied _ beforehand?”

“How… How would I do that?” Crowley questioned, nose wrinkling. 

“Masturbation, I would assume.” Aziraphale responded. “We can try that option first if you’re okay with it, since we’d have to go and  _ find _ a cock cage.”

“I s’pose so.” Crowley agreed. Aziraphale realized then that this had been going on long enough; the drone of the bible in the background was messing with his thoughts. It was time to get Crowley out of there. 

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, sparing a quick miracle to undo the ropes faster. They fell to the floor and Crowley raised his arms, rubbing at his wrists to encourage circulation. He still looked deep in thought. 

“Was that alright?” Aziraphale questioned, nervously. 

“Yes, just fine. You were brilliant, of course, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Crowley responded. Aziraphale could tell that he still had that far-away look in his eyes, and knew that Crowley might need some emotional attention after that kind of intensity. They were not used to being without their powers. 

“Would you like to come upstairs?” Aziraphale asked. “A juice box would really hit the spot right about now.”

“What do you think?” Crowley snarked. “Of  _ course _ I will drink a juice box. I  _ invented _ Capri Sun straws.”

(The Capri Sun straw had gotten crowley a promotion when, during a meeting, Beelzebub themself stabbed through the bottom of the pouch and the rest of it spilled onto their trousers.)

Crowley stood, shaking himself out. He still looked uncomfortably hard, but was obviously more at-ease. Aziraphale figured Crowley was waiting until he wasn’t looking anymore to undo it, so he turned and squinted at the wall. He started walking up the stairs, hearing Crowley in close pursuit behind him. 

~~~ 

Crowley was lucky that he had gotten the least observant angel in the whole battalion. Aziraphale never jumped to conclusions, and had never noticed in the past when Crowley had used a small miracle to get rid of his… erm, interest. 

So Aziraphale didn’t question that it was the ropes that had gotten Crowley hard. He didn’t question the unwavering attraction that Crowley so obviously had for him, because he didn’t even  _ notice. _

Or, maybe he did notice. Maybe he was just being nice about not liking Crowley back, and figured that never mentioning it was the key to keeping their friendship the way it was. 

And Crowley liked to think that Aziraphale would have wrong about that, if that  _ was _ what Aziraphale was thinking. Crowley liked to imagine that he would have been gracious about being turned down, and they would continue on as best friends like nothing had ever happened. Sure, he might need a little while to get over his heartbreak. But he’d done it before. 

Crowley plopped down on his couch, listening to the sound of the refrigerator pop open as Aziraphale located the juice boxes. It was one of the few things he had in his fridge. 

They  _ really _ needed to go grocery shopping. 

“We really need to go grocery shopping.” Aziraphale remarked. Crowley was suddenly hit by a wave of warmth as he pictured him and Zira walking through a grocery store together, arguing over what, exactly, was necessary to make human food. 

“We could go tomorrow morning? Before we get around to testing your limits?” Crowley suggested. Aziraphale came around the side of the couch and sat down beside him. He grabbed the blanket over the back of the couch and passed it to Crowley. Crowley took it, because Zira had been the one offering, and realized as he draped it over his legs that he  _ was _ actually pretty cold. 

“I think that sounds like a lovely idea,” Aziraphale informed him. Zira took the juice pouch and stabbed the straw through before passing it to Crowley. 

“You know I could have done that myself.” Crowley mumbled. But he didn’t  _ really _ mind. 

“I know.” Aziraphale responded. His hand drifted down to Crowley’s ankle, and he softly rubbed him through the blanket. The softness, warmth, and  _ tenderness _ of the action had Crowley turning into an absolute  _ puddle _ on the sofa. 

If fake-fucking Aziraphale wasn’t going to be the death of him, then living with Aziraphale was. 

~~~

Aziraphale forced himself to pull his fingers away from the seat. They had clung to the leather insistently for the entire drive. 

“C’mon, I’ve driven  _ much _ faster than that!” Crowley said, sensing his unease. “That couldn’t have been more than thirty miles over the speed limit!”

Aziraphale opened his door, glaring at his companion. “Thirty miles too far over the speed limit.”

“Oh, whatever,” Crowley waved him off, “Let’s just get on with this. I’ve heard that grocery shopping has the tendency to drag on.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” Aziraphale argued. They walked through the grocery doors, and the crisp smell of fresh vegetables wafted towards them. Aziraphale eagerly grabbed a cart, walking towards the display with enthusiasm. See? He knew it couldn’t be terrible. Anything food-related was sure to be wonderful. 

Humans had come up with so many interesting things to do with food. 

Picking up a big bundle of cilantro, Aziraphale shook off the water. Glancing over, he saw a woman take a plastic bag and slip her produce inside. He mimicked the behavior. “Oh, look! How hygienic.”

Crowley was looking at him intensely, and Aziraphale wished yet again that he wouldn’t wear those infernal glasses. It made it so much more difficult to get a gauge on his reactions. 

“You are utterly ridiculous, you know that?” Crowley mumbled. His voice let sentiment drip through the cracks, and Aziraphale smiled as Crowley picked up a squash, examining it closely before slipping it, too, in a bag. 

Once Aziraphale was reaching for the sixth vegetable, Crowley put his hand out, his glasses sliding down his nose to reveal his eyes. “Don’t get too many now. We have to eat these before they go bad.”

“Right, yes.” Aziraphale said, frowning. “I had forgotten about that tidbit.”

Crowley rolled his eyes before looking up, scanning for the next section of the grocery store. Aziraphale knew what he saw before Crowley said it, and his heart swelled with affection at the demon’s thoughtfulness. 

“Do you want to go to the bakery?” Crowley questioned. 

“Do I want to go to the bakery,” Aziraphale scoffed, straightening his bowtie. “Honestly, Crowley, it’s like you don’t even know me at all. Of course I want to go to the bakery.”

And off they went. 

“Oh my God,” Crowley said, quickening his pace as mischief passed over his face. “We should steal all the free samples.”

“Crowley, no!” Aziraphale exclaimed. 

Crowley got to the chocolate chip cookie display and opened up the container, reaching in and grabbing two. He turned and handed one to Aziraphale. 

“I still think we should take them all.” He argued. Aziraphale gave a deep sigh, reaching forward to take the offered cookie. He took a bite, and the crisp chocolate chips coated his tongue in a way that was positively  _ divine _ . He felt his heavenly will waver. 

“Alright,” He relented, taking another bite. “You can take  _ two more _ . But the rest are for  _ other people _ .” 

Crowley immediately took two more of the cookies, and Aziraphale knew before he did it that both of them were going to be passed to him. 

Which was good. He definitely didn’t need to be grocery shopping while he was hungry. 

Three aisles down, Aziraphale was trying to decide what kind of spaghetti to buy. He looked back and forth between the panini and the angel hair, trying to decide which would come out more authentic when cooked at home. 

“Just get the panini,” Crowley groaned, “You  _ know _ you prefer that in the restaurants.”

“But this  _ isn’t _ a restaurant,” Aziraphale argued, “I’m worried that undercooking it might ruin its appeal. I think that the angel hair pasta might be a better decision.”

“Get them both!” Crowley exclaimed. “There’s no reason we can’t eat pasta twice in a week.”

Crowley’s nose was wrinkled as he turned, taking stock of all the sauces. If Aziraphale had to guess, he would have said that Crowley was probably trying to pick two out so that Aziraphale couldn’t spend twenty minutes doing it. 

His guess was confirmed a few seconds later as Crowley reached out, grabbing two practically at random and tossing them both into the cart. Crowley looked up, and even though Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes, he knew that Crowley was staring back. There was a soft feeling in his chest, like someone had replaced all of the floorboards there with shag carpet. 

“What?” Crowley asked. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No, no,” Aziraphale reassured him, turning away. 

_ You have me wrapped around your finger _ , Aziraphale thought, calmly pushing the cart forward. 

By the time they had finished loading up on snacks and juice and pastries and everything and anything Aziraphale’s heart desired, it was already three P.M. 

“Goodness,” Aziraphale commented, squinting at the Bentley’s clock, “Time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

~~~

Crowley was lying on the couch, groaning. 

His stupid human body was making him  _ tired _ . And he was so used to sleep at this point that he knew that any attempts to magically fix his tiredness wouldn’t fix his inherent desire to laze. 

The groceries had been put away already, and Aziraphale had found them something relatively easy for dinner that night, since they had both exhausted themselves in the process of picking everything out. Crowley believed they were called “microwave meals”, and was pretty sure he’d heard one of the hipper demons take credit for them once. 

“Zirraaaaa,” He complained, forcing himself to sit up. 

“What is it, Dear?” Aziraphale asked, walking into the living room. He silently observed Crowley as Crowley hissed, stretching upwards before slowly letting his muscles relax. 

“‘M bored.” He said. “And it’s too cold in here.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should go get the blanket from your room.”

Crowley had carried the blanket that Aziraphale had draped over him back to his bedroom last night. It had been a wonderful decision at the time. The soft fluff against his skin had helped him sleep tightly through the night. 

“I don’t want to.” Crowley complained. “That’s why I called you. Get it for me?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed, “You are the  _ laziest _ serpent I have ever known.”

“Well if you don’t want to get it, you don’t have to. You could always warm me up yourself.” He said. Crowley froze, his own words just then penetrating his sleepy fog. “With a miracle! That’s what I meant. Not, like…”

“Not like what we do downstairs?” Aziraphale asked, amusement slipping into his voice. Crowley realized then that it was pretty ridiculous of him to be embarrassed about it. After all, surely a little bit of accidental flirting between friends couldn’t hurt?

“I mean, not that I’d object.” Crowley clarified. He tried to swallow, but his mouth still felt dry. 

Aziraphale’s eyes briefly checked him over. Crowley’s body went hot with the scrutiny, and he realized that Aziraphale had just, entirely on accident, warmed him up. Lovely. 

“You know, it couldn’t hurt for us to get a little more comfortable with platonic physical touch as well.” Aziraphale pointed out. “I wouldn’t mind warming you up. Like when you fell asleep on the couch in the bookshop and I didn’t have a spare blanket.”

“Sure,” Crowley responded, in a daze. “Knock yourself out.”

Crowley couldn’t believe what had just been handed to him. An opportunity to  _ snuggle _ with Aziraphale  _ on the regular _ , no questions asked, no strings attached, completely guilt free! Aziraphale had even been the one to suggest it. 

Aziraphale awkwardly took off his jacket, setting it on the chair. He sat on the couch before swinging his legs up, bringing them to rest in front of Crowley’s own. Aziraphale lay down in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around Crowley to bring him close, pressing his body to the demon’s. Crowley’s brain was short-circuiting. He couldn’t remember what words were. 

His thoughts had reverted back to multiple tones of hissing. 

“Let me know if I could help you get more comfortable.” Aziraphale says, softly. His head was leaning up against Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley can’t stop his arm from snaking (pun intended) around Aziraphale, bringing him closer. 

“This...Thissss isssss comfortable.” He managed to choke out. Aziraphale chuckled, and the sound shot straight through Crowley and into his heart. 

Aziraphale’s breath tickled his skin where it landed. Crowley didn’t dare to move, barely dared to breathe. Aziraphale’s soft blonde curls bounced as he shifted, snuggling in  _ closer _ . 

Crowley hadn’t been able to properly appreciate this when he was drunk. 

Aziraphale’s skin was warm against his chest. His eyes were closed, and his cheek was squished up against Crowley. He stared, feeling warmth flood him like a tidal wave. 

Crowley slowly felt himself become less and less alert, his eyes drifting closed as his mind wandered, comfort seeping into him and settling in his muscles, in his bones. He felt like he was being wrapped in a plush blanket of comfort, and as excited as he was by Aziraphale’s touch, one could only fight a feeling of relaxation that strong for so long. 

His eyes shut and his thoughts blissful, Crowley slowly drifted off into sleep. 

~~~ 

“So, what do you think they’ll want to see?” Aziraphale asked, leaning back on the bed. Crowley paused, thinking, and Aziraphale watched him with amusement. 

“Everything.” Crowley responded, dryly. “We won’t show them anything too damning, but they’ll at the very least need to see _ some _ action. That is, if we want them to keep buying into it.”

Aziraphale’s shirt had already been shed, and it sat on the carpet beside the bed. Crowley’s eyes kept drifting down over his chest, which Aziraphale certainly didn’t miss. He knew that it was probably just mild interest in the few scars Aziraphale had managed to get on his body. But he would definitely pretend otherwise later on. 

“What do we feel comfortable showing them?” Aziraphale asked, knowing that it was the most relevant question at this point in time. Crowley paused, frowning. 

“That’s what we need to figure out.” He asserted. “So, uh… What do you want to try first?”

Aziraphale thought. Whatever they did first, it should probably be at least somewhat tame. And it should definitely be something that both of them were interested in. 

“How about some light spanking?” Aziraphale suggested, watching the blush on Crowley’s cheeks deepen. 

“Alright, I think that’s a good start.” Crowley agreed. “Should we add something a little bit saucier to it? Something to really drive home that this is about sex?”

Aziraphale thought. He came up with an idea, and kept his mouth firmly shut about it. 

Unless…?

Well, it would be ridiculously self-indulgent to bring it up. And if Crowley said yes, Aziraphale would have a  _ very real _ problem on his hands; he would enjoy it far too much. 

Unfortunately, the silence dragged on, and Aziraphale was forced to say what he was thinking. 

“Maybe you could be wearing some kind of lingerie?”

Crowley’s mouth dropped open, his pupils blowing wide before re-dilating all in the span of a second. He shut his mouth, but it fell open again. When he had finally composed himself enough to respond, his voice came out much higher than usual. “You want  _ me _ to wear the lingerie?”

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale responded, plainly. “You do have the figure for a corset.”

“Okay, first of all,” Crowley pointed out, stubbornly, “Everyone has the figure for a corset. They’re lovely.” Aziraphale silently agreed. Crowley continued, “And you’re going to be the one who’s supposed to be getting off, here. Shouldn’t you be in the lacy stuff?”

“I suppose I could be, if you would prefer it. I understand that they’re your coworkers, technically. I wouldn’t want to put you in a position-”

“I’ll do it.” Crowley interrupted, suddenly. Aziraphale felt like he had whiplash. Crowley had made the decision in the span of a few seconds, and Aziraphale wondered what possibly could have made him change his mind.

“What?” He asked. 

“I said I’ll do it. I don’t… I can see where there might be merits in me dressing up. And I don’t want any oftheotherdemonstoseeyoulikethat.”

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I don’t want any demons seeing you all fancied up.” Crowley said, a little bit louder. “You’re pretty enough as is. The last thing we need is one of them asking whether or not they can go a round with you.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Airaphale blushed at the compliment. “I highly doubt that anyone would decide they wanted to “go a round”, as it were. But if you’re certain that it wouldn’t bother you…”

Crowley stood, suddenly. His hand came up, and his fingers rubbed along his five o’clock shadow. “Hold tight, Angel. I’m going to go… Slip into something a little bit more comfortable.”

Aziraphale watched, confused as Crowley stalked out of the room. His eyes followed him as far as they could, but it wasn’t long until he was out of his sight, and Aziraphale listened to the sound of Crowley’s light feet on the stairs. He wondered what Crowley meant by that.

Aziraphale didn’t have to wonder for long. 

When Crowley came back, Aziraphale’s eyes immediately snapped towards him. Aziraphale’s mouth watered, and his hands began to sweat. He gulped. 

Crowley’s top was laced tight in a black and red corset, leading down to a pair of lacey panties that hugged him tightly, showing off what he had to work with. Attached to the panties were two thin strips of fabric that hooked to the top of the stockings Crowley was wearing. The stockings were  _ also _ black lace, and they hugged his legs quite nicely. 

“You look  _ exquisite _ .” He gushed, feeling his body take a pointed interest in the buffet of Crowley’s skin that had just been laid out before him. Aziraphale pointedly looked away, feeling his pulse quicken and his face burn. He would  _ not _ give himself away that easily. They hadn’t even started anything yet. 

“Yes, yes.” Crowley said, waving it off with a gloved hand. Aziraphale then noticed the leather gloves, and his mouth felt dry. “Why don’t you help do your part now and take off those pants?”

Aziraphale scooted to the edge of the bed and stood, pushing his pants down to his ankles. He reminded himself that Crowley had already seen him like this before; in fact, Crowley had undressed him just the night before. He stepped out of his clothes, taking a shaky breath as he was exposed. 

Though he supposed that Crowley probably did, too. 

“What next?” Aziraphale asked, searching for a little bit of guidance. 

“Hands against the edge of the bed.” Crowley tentatively said. Then, his voice became stronger, clearer. He was slipping into character. “And do spread those legs for me, Darling.”

Aziraphale did as he was told, a thrill streaking through him. He looked back, watched as Crowley took a couple of tentative steps forward. Crowley’s hand rested on his lower back, and Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from shivering. 

How many times had he imagined this very scenario? How many times had he imagined it the other way around? Places, roles, and motivations may have changed, but it all boiled down to this; Crowley touching him, and him touching Crowley. And he was going to have that fantasy, in the most  _ maddening _ way possible. 

Because he knew that Crowley  _ wasn’t _ going to ravish him afterwards. 

“Is this okay?” Crowley breathed, his hand drifting down to Aziraphale’s ass. Aziraphale didn’t trust himself to respond verbally, so he leaned back into the touch. Crowley must have gotten the hint, because he gave Aziraphale a small squeeze in return. Aziraphale rode out the wave of arousal that rocketeered through him, until he trusted himself with words again. 

“I can take it.” He said, simply. “You can start.”

“I’ll start out slow,” Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale was  _ going _ to tell him that it would be unnecessary, that he would be able to handle whatever Crowley threw at him, but he found his mouth suddenly very occupied with biting his own lip. 

Crowley’s hand raised and came back down with a light, but not insubstantial, blow. A thump sounded out through the room, and suddenly, Aziraphale wished that he was naked, that it was the bare smack of skin against skin instead. 

Crowley’s hand lifted a second time, and came down a little harder. Aziraphale’s cock throbbed as the dull pain dispersed, moving through his body. Crowley’s next smack was a little bit faster, and a little bit harder. 

The pain, the  _ sensation _ as Crowley continued to spank him spread out and redoubled, every single bit of it going straight to his  _ cock _ at one point or another. He could feel himself hardening, becoming fully erect. He knew that he could end it with just one little miracle, but he didn’t want to. He liked the way his hardness rubbed up against the bedsheets every time his body jerked with surprise at Crowley’s next smack. 

Aziraphale had lost count by the time Crowley stopped. He had gotten to twenty before giving up, surrendering himself to the sensations. It hadn’t been much longer after that that Crowley stopped, switching tactics. 

Crowley stepped behind Aziraphale, draping his body over the Angel’s. Aziraphale shivered at his body heat spreading across his sore buttocks, making him all the more aware of the lingering sting. Crowley’s lips pressed against the back of his neck, and Aziraphale pushed back against him, a long groan escaping his lips. 

He realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Crowley was hard, too. Hard, and pressing right up against Aziraphale’s ass. 

Aziraphale’s already hard cock twitched, and his hips stuttered forward into the sheet, desperately. 

“Did you like that?” Crowley asked, leaning over to nibble at Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale nodded, his thoughts hazy and head swimming with sensation and arousal. He registered Crowley’s hands on his chest then, roaming delicately over his flushed skin. 

Crowley’s fingers brushed against his nipple, and Aziraphale let out a strangled cry. He could  _ feel _ that his cock was leaking, and he wondered if he might have died and gone to heaven. (Only he  _ knew _ that heaven wasn’t so interesting). 

Crowley’s fingers experimentally brushed over it again, and Aziraphale pushed himself back against Crowley’s pelvis, arousal radiating through him. 

“Yes, you bastard,” Aziraphale gasped. “I liked it. I  _ like _ it. Are you happy?”

Crowley pulled away then, and Aziraphale turned to make sure that he hadn’t upset him. On the contrary, Crowley looked absolutely elated. His mouth was pulled up into a clever little smirk, and his pupils were thin, excited slits. Aziraphale turned fully, to face him. 

“I think you put on a pretty good show.” Crowley informed him, smugly. “I think that Hell will be quite convinced. Tell me, Aziraphale,” Crowley gestured down towards his erection, “Is that method acting?”

“It-- It had to be realistic!” Aziraphale defended. Crowley’s eyes hardened a bit, and the humor left them. 

“Right, right, of course.” He sighed. He didn’t seem angry, or disappointed. But something had happened that clearly stripped him of his earlier joy. Aziraphale wondered whether or not he might be experiencing some sort of drop. “I should probably get changed, back into my usual clothes.” 

“Of course.” Aziraphale said. Then, after a moment, he added, “I should probably do the same.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” Crowley turned, his eyes lingering on Aziraphale’s for just a second more. There was an air of awkwardness in the room that Aziraphale felt they needed to address. But he didn’t know how. 

He thought, trying desperately to come up with something to say before Crowley exited the room. Crowley was fully turned away from him now, heading towards the door. Aziraphale knew that his window of opportunity was closing, and he wanted to say something,  _ anything _ , desperately. 

“Crowley, wait.” He said, his voice coming out louder than he had intended. Crowley stopped, bending his back and leaning against the door frame, peering at Aziraphale over his shoulder. Aziraphale filed the image away in his head for later. His mouth opened, even though he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. He almost expected himself to say nothing. “You  _ did _ do a good job, you know.”

Aziraphale surprised himself with that one, but Crowley’s face remained a careful, neutral mask. 

“You did, too, Angel.” Crowley said. He turned, running up the stairs as he had before. Aziraphale’s heart beat heavily, a flush rising across his skin at the reciprocal praise. 

He went back to his bedroom and… Well…. 

Let’s just say that Aziraphale was no angel that day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please comment and let me know how I'm doing so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed the tag ‘naked twister’ on this fic. I’m here today to tell you that it was not a euphemism. They literally play twister.

“I think we’re ready to show them. At the very least, we’re ready for the first round of inquiry.” Crowley stated. Aziraphale swallowed heavily. 

“I agree.” Aziraphale responded. 

He walked over to the burner and shut it off, removing the pan as he slid two sunny side up eggs off of it and onto his own plate. Crowley’s were already half-eaten. 

Aziraphale had tried cooking many times over the last few days. He’d attempted to bake a cake, make macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, grilled cheese, eggs, toast, bacon, and chocolate souffle. 

That last one was by far the biggest disaster. Aziraphale was most certainly  _ not _ a good cook. But there was one thing that he seemed to be able to make with consistent success; eggs. Everything else seemed to be hit or miss. 

And Aziraphale really needed a hit kind of breakfast. 

“What’s still worrying you?” Crowley questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he sat down the newspaper he had been reading. 

“I just…” Aziraphale sighed, heavily. “I think we might need to put in just a little bit more skin-on-skin contact. I don’t want anything to happen and then we end up in a situation where we’re uncomfortable.”

“We’ll have the non-verbal safeword.” Crowley reminded him. Aziraphale waved him off. Yes, yes, he knew about that. They were to tap three times if something was amiss. When they could, they’d also have a pen to click.

“I know. I just want to make sure that this thing is somewhat sustainable. I don’t think we need to rush into this, is all that I’m saying.”

“I fully understand, Angel. But I know that that isn’t going to be a problem on my end, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That didn’t make Aziraphale feel much better. 

“I know you think that.” He said. “But things can be different in the moment. I’m not saying it can’t be soon, I’m saying that we should probably do  _ some kind of _ skin to skin activity before we tell them. It doesn’t even necessarily have to be sexual.”

Aziraphale was  _ definitely _ not thinking about Crowley’s jacuzzi tub. Shame on you, really, for projecting that onto him. 

“What, do you want to play a board game naked or something?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale laughed. 

Then, he paused. 

He reached into his pocket, bringing out his cellular phone. Anathema had recently taught him how to do this, and he was going to make use of it now. 

He opened the chrome app, and typed ‘Naked Boardgames to Prepare for Intimacy’ into the search bar. He waited as the results came up. 

A few sex-specific board games came up, and he scrolled past them, squinting at the phone screen. 

“Angel,” Crowley said, tentatively, “Are you doing that thing where you take something that I said way too seriously?”

“I’m looking for a sexual board game for us to partake in.” Aziraphale confirmed. “Honestly Crowley, your jokes are always the best ideas. I would suggest you become a comedian, but I know you’re already a clown.”

Crowley must have miracled himself a clown nose, because it was there when Aziraphale looked up from his phone. 

“Who are you calling a clown?” He hissed in mock-anger. 

Airaphale laughed, but quickly shook it off. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted; Crowley was terribly good at distracting him. 

He continued scrolling, glancing at the titles and descriptions. Finally, something caught his eye. He remembered seeing commercials advertising it in the nineties, and figured that the premise might work well for the purpose. 

“You do own a copy of the board game Twister, I presume?” Aziraphale questioned, raising his eyebrows. When he looked up, Crowley had (thank God herself) gotten rid of the clown nose. 

“Of course I own a copy of Twister, I took credit for it.” Crowley scoffed. “Wait. Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“I think you’re thinking that I’m thinking we should play Twister while gradually disrobing ourselves between rounds, in which case I am most certainly thinking what you’re thinking that I’m thinking.” 

“I swear to God Aziraphale, you’re so much better than any of my bosses at making me miserable” Crowley groaned, rubbing his temples. “But fine. I’m fine with the game, and we can always stop if we start to get uncomfortable. But if I ever hear you use a sentence that  _ convoluted _ ever again, I’m personally going to remove your tongue.”

Aziraphale decided to play it safe, and chose not to respond. 

~~~ 

Crowley had downloaded a twister app. 

He knew that they probably wouldn’t have a spare hand to spin the wheel, and decided to make due. 

“Alright,” He said, setting up the phone timer for thirty seconds between spins, “So, we play one round. Whoever loses that round takes off an article of clothing. If someone wins two rounds in a row, they  _ also _ take off an article of clothing. Just in case one of us ends up being inexplicably brilliant.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Aziraphale agreed. 

They were both in their button-ups, trousers, underwear and socks. They had stripped themselves of their usual twenty layers, agreeing that the shorter this game was, the better it would be for everyone. 

The first round went off without a hitch. Crowley and Aziraphale had touched through clothing, had been this close, many times before. Crowley ended up hunkered down over Aziraphale with his legs crossed and his arms somehow in between Aziraphale’s unnaturally spread legs. (Both of Aziraphale’s feet were both on opposite yellows). 

Aziraphale had fallen first that round, and one of his socks had come off. 

As he slipped it off of his foot, Crowley glared. “You  _ know _ that’s bending the rules. Socks are supposed to be the last thing to come off.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to take the high road when it comes time for you to take off an article of your clothing.” Aziraphale had huffed.

“Maybe I will.” Crowley mumbled. 

He had the chance to the very next round. 

Aziraphale lost again; his arms giving out this time. He had been hunched over Crowley, and Crowley had found that Aziraphale’s weight dropping down onto him was enough to make him lose his balance if he wasn’t expecting it. 

They came toppling down together. 

“No argument,” Crowley called, pointing at Aziraphale as he brushed the lint off of his shirt, “You caused that.”

“I agree.” Aziraphale said. “Honestly, Crowley. Have I ever behaved with anything other than impeccable sportsmanship?” 

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

Aziraphale removed his second sock, and turned to look at Crowley expectantly. The spark of mischief, the  _ challenge _ in his eyes, sent Crowley into a frenzied determination. Using that manic energy, he reached down and unbuttoned his trousers. “I’ll honor the spirit of the game, then. One of us bloody well has to.”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale agreed, “The spirit of naked twister definitely deserves more respect than I’m giving it.”

Crowley slipped his trousers down his legs and stepped out of them, leaving his legs exposed. He reminded himself that he shouldn’t be nervous; Aziraphale had seen his legs not more than a couple of days ago, when he’d been in lingerie. 

Even thinking about what transpired there caused a jolt through his body, and he quickly pushed the thought away. 

“Next round.” Crowley announced, rubbing his hands together. Aziraphale pressed the button on the phone, and began the round. 

Aziraphale’s left leg to blue, right hand to red, Crowley’s left leg to yellow, right leg to green, Aziraphale’s right hand to yellow, left hand to yellow, and Crowley was starting to be  _ convinced _ that Aziraphale was brushing up against his bare skin on purpose, trying to force a reaction out of him. 

Crowley was, in fact, so very focussed on this theory that he didn’t notice when his legs started to slip. His muscles shook, desperately trying to contort him back into a feasible position, but failed. Crowley’s ass hit the mat, and he was left staring up at an  _ incredibly _ smug Aziraphale. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He pointed out, “Did your socks not provide enough friction?”

Crowley looked down in surprise at the offending clothing. He reached down and grabbed his left sock, whipping it off. “Don’t act like you were pulling a strategy move you bastard.”

“I couldn’t have known that it would cause you to slip.” Aziraphale pointed out. “But I did know it was going to cause  _ me _ to.”

Crowley groaned, reaching over and re-starting the twister app. “Whatever. Next round. I  _ will _ crush you.”

Crowley ended up crushing Aziraphale in a way that was somewhat different than he intended when he collapsed, landing squarely on Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale was warm even through his clothing, and Crowley realized with a start that when the next round started, that layer of fabric between them might not be there. 

“Lucky.” He spat, shifting his weight off of Aziraphale.

“Skilled.” Aziraphale responded, in that stupidly smug tone of his. Crowley rolled his eyes and unbuttoned his shirt with quick, erratic movements. Once he was finished with the last button, he whipped it off. His chest was exposed, and he still had one sock left. 

Aziraphale’s eyes scanned over Crowley’s chest, and he suddenly worried that he’d made the wrong move. With his ribs barely poking through and his stomach flat, he knew that he wasn’t exactly a man’s wet dream. He wasn’t buff. Wasn’t even a little toned. 

Aziraphale looked away sharply, and the taste in Crowley’s mouth turned sour. 

“You know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He pointed out. Aziraphale nodded, his own hands working to undo his shirt. He took it off and tossed it aside, revealing soft, touchable skin and a small spattering of chest hair. He was… so far out of Crowley’s league, it wasn’t even funny. 

Crowley bit his lip and kept his insecurities to himself as Aziraphale reset the app this time. 

This round, they were a little more careful. Aziraphale moved over him a little higher, and Crowley’s moves were a little more cautious. They were hardly even finished with their last move when the app called out the next one, and Crowley made a mental note to adjust the settings a little bit for the next round. 

Crowley managed to angle his body so that Aziraphale was no longer directly above him. It turned out to be a smart move, since Aziraphale toppled over the very next round. 

“Finally, we show some skin.” Crowley teased. “And here I thought you were going to materialize another sock to take off.”

“Here I thought you might have materialized some manners to take care of.”

They smiled at each other, and for a moment, everything was good again. Crowley forgot about his insecurities, and Aziraphale’s ineffable allure, and the fact that he was getting as close to Aziraphale as he would  _ ever _ be allowed to.

It became… A little bit more normal. Didn’t trigger the amount of pining it had when he had thought about it earlier. 

Crowley was more comfortable that round. 

He and Aziraphale moved in and out of compromising positions, hovering over one another, snaking hands between legs, both of them participating in not-so-subtle touches as a “distraction tactic”. Aziraphale even swore when he got an impossible command, and came tumbling down the moment he tried to reach for it anyway. 

Aziraphale’s loss made Crowley feel bittersweet. 

Because now, Aziraphale had to take off his underwear. 

But Crowley had a decision to make. 

He was in his pants and one sock, and he had just won a second round in a row. He had to take off an article of his own clothing. 

Aziraphale turned away, clearing his throat as he slipped out of his briefs in one fluid motion. Crowley couldn’t help but let his eyes wander, looking over Aziraphale’s perfectly round ass and plump thighs. He felt his cock stir in interest, and he knew that his underwear would do nothing to hide it. He  _ also _ knew that Aziraphale would feel pretty damn self-conscious if he was the only one exposed. 

Aziraphale turned around, pointedly not looking at Crowley. Crowley avoided looking at his crotch. 

Crowley decided to man up, as it were. 

“We should have gotten drunk for this.” He complained, slipping off his own undergarments. Aziraphale did not do him the same courtesy that he had done Aziraphale; the angel’s eyes immediately dropped to Crowley’s cock, which gave a half-hearted twitch at the attention. Crowley looked away sharply, clearing his own throat. 

Aziraphale got the hint, and he started the countdown on the phone again. 

This time, Crowley had to force himself to relax. It was going to be hell, if he didn’t. He knew that Aziraphale would be watching, and… He would have to let that go. He would have to be  _ okay _ with it. And he would have to give himself permission to watch Aziraphale, too. This game that they were playing, it… It took two. 

Aziraphale’s legs were spread out to either side of him, both on yellow. Crowley was commanded to move his leg to yellow, and his foot slid effortlessly between Aziraphale’s legs. Aziraphale’s hand was prompted to move to green, and he placed it directly by Crowley’s other foot. Even their subtle touches became not-so-subtle once the clothing between them had been removed. Crowley would have sworn he was aware of every nanometer where his skin touched Zira’s. And, strictly speaking, he would have been correct. 

The game played on, and their moves got bolder, putting them closer to each other. Their muscles shook as they bent themselves into impossible positions over and around and through each other, and when Crowley finally fell, it was with a certain degree of comfort. 

Aziraphale came down with him. Their chests connected, and Crowley suddenly found himself looking into Aziraphale’s eyes as the inferno of his skin met Crowley’s frozen wasteland. Those icy-blue eyes didn’t move from his. 

The moment felt like it lasted an entire infinity. 

Crowley finally forced himself to look away. But he couldn’t force himself to stop touching Aziraphale; not when they were this close  _ casually _ . 

Touching Aziraphale sexually was  _ wonderful _ , of course. But that wasn’t all that Crowley fantasized about. That wasn’t all that Crowley wanted from him. He knew that sexual touch was the tip of the iceberg when it came to his desire for his Angel; he wanted every little intimate moment, every brush of Aziraphale’s fingers against his forehead, every time they sat a little too close to each other on a park bench. 

Crowley soaked it up like a touch-starved whore. 

“That was helpful.” He commented, amazed at his own ability to touch Aziraphale like this. Usually, his brain would be short-circuiting by now. He would be backing away, afraid that he was pushing Zira too fast, too far. But his brain was  _ unusually _ quiet. 

“I would have to agree.” Aziraphale said. His arm wrapped around Crowley, and came to rest on his lower back. Crowley shut his eyes tightly, sighing out a contented sigh of  _ relief _ . 

Crowley had no clue how long they laid there. All he knew was that time felt like it was standing still, and his skin felt  _ warm _ every place that Aziraphale touched. 

He knew that he would probably feel anxious about this in the morning. About letting himself be held for so long. He would convince himself that Aziraphale  _ knew _ somehow, and was completely adverse to the idea that Crowley loved him, was keeping quiet about it for the sake of their friendship. He’d sweep himself away to some other corner of the world to think, and Crowley would seal himself away and take a nap for another seventy years or so. 

But tonight?

Tonight, he let himself feel warm. 

~~~ 

Today was the big day. 

Heaven and hell would both be coming to their apartment at different times-- Heaven first, showing at no later than 9 AM on the dot. They would have to be ready for their arrival at eight-thirty, which Crowley was none too pleased about. 

“But when you think about it,” Aziraphale argued, “It will be  _ better _ that you look tired. They’ll think that I’ve been slowly wearing you down. And that’s what the report said.”

Aziraphale and Crowley had both filed reports on their supposed activities, and as they suspected, heaven and hell had both immediately reached out for proof. 

Hell was to arrive at four o’clock, PM. The difference in time would both give Aziraphale and Crowley some time to prepare between the appointments and make sure that there was no chance of an overlap. 

Aziraphale’s alarm sounded, and the angel stirred. Crowley moved next to him, the blankets shifting to wrap closer around the demon. Aziraphale grabbed them, pulling some back towards himself. Crowley was a real blanket hog, and Aziraphale had been fighting him  _ all night _ . 

They had slept together, of course, to ensure that neither of them overslept for the meeting. 

Aziraphale grabbed the alarm, squinting at it. It was eight AM. Half an hour before they should be ready. 

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale mumbled, turning. He laid a hand gently on Crowley’s shoulder, shaking him lightly back and forth. Crowley let out a low hiss, grabbing the pillow under his head and shifting it up, letting it slip from under his head and then replacing it  _ overtop _ of his head instead. 

“Really, that’s most unnecessary.” Aziraphale scolded. Crowley mumbled something, shifting under the blankets. 

Aziraphale grabbed the top of the blankets and pulled, releasing Crowley’s heat into the open room. Crowley groaned, but slipped his head out from under the pillow. He glared at Aziraphale, his eyes yellow. 

“You’ll pay for that later.”

“How? You won’t make my afternoon tea?” Aziraphale questioned, feeling doubtful. 

“I’ll hide all the pastries in the house.” Crowley informed him. Aziraphale highly doubted that Crowley would be able to hide the pastries where he couldn’t find them, but he decided  _ not _ to play into Crowley’s taunts.

“Stop trying to distract me and get up.” Aziraphale said. He turned and swung is own legs off of the side, standing on the cold hardwood floor. Really, Crowley needed to put a rug in his bedroom. It was so much harder to get up when you knew that your feet were going to be cold the moment that you did. 

Aziraphale heard Crowley move behind him, and he walked towards the doorway. 

“Do whatever you have to, but you’re going to be tied up and unable to use a miracle very soon. I’d recommend taking a few minutes to yourself. But if you aren’t down there by eight fifteen, I’m going to come and fetch you.”

He walked out of the room, trying not to think about what Crowley might spend the next ten minutes doing to himself. 

Aziraphale briefly wondered whether or not Crowley was thinking about being tied up while he satisfied himself, but he shook off the thought. That wasn’t important right now! Aziraphale needed to  _ focus _ . 

He walked downstairs, coming into the “torture” room and taking out their ropes, for starters. He put the biblical tape somewhere in the middle, hoping to make them think that it had been playing for a long time. He walked around the room, double-checking to make sure that everything sexual had been properly put away. 

Satisfied with his work, he stepped back and viewed their dungeon. 

Crowley’s distinctive footsteps sounded as he came down the stairs, and Aziraphale turned. Crowley’s hands were at his own throat, intentionally frumping up his already-undone bowtie. 

“What do you think, Angel? Do I look properly disheveled?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale’s eyes roamed up and down his body, taking in the ruffled hair and the wrinkled clothing. Crowley had put extra care into making his cuffs look wrinkly; that would make it look like he had been fighting against the ropes. Aziraphale liked the attention to detail. 

“I think you need to sit down so we can get this thing started.” Aziraphale responded, eager to get his hands on Crowley. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Crowley mumbled, rolling his eyes. He slumped into the chair, and placed his hands obediently along the arm of the chair. He had a small pen grasped in his left hand, and he would click it against the wood three times if he needed out of the ropes. 

Aziraphale walked over and began tying Crowley up. The thrill that was there the first time he had done this definitely hadn’t dulled. 

“You’re doing such a good job,” He said, absent-mindedly. Crowley made a small sound in the back of his throat, and Aziraphale looked up. He couldn’t fully get a read on the demon since Crowley’s sunglasses were on for Heaven’s visit, but he could see the light blush across Crowley’s face. “I’m sorry. Is that embarrassing?”

“Not exactly?” Crowley said, shifting in his seat. Aziraphale suddenly remembered their deadline as the rope dragged across his skin, and he went back to tying Crowley to the chair. “We can discuss this later.”

“Agreed.” Aziraphale said. Crowley slumped. 

Aziraphale moved on, and finished up with the right side quickly. His knots were perfect, and the energy in the room suddenly halved as Crowley’s powers briefly left him. Aziraphale paced back and forth, having nothing else to do with his nervous energy. 

“You’ve got to stop pacing.” Crowley said, eventually. “You’ll just look guilty.”

“I won’t be doing it when they get here.” Aziraphale scoffed. “Besides, it’s a good way to outlet nervous energy.”

“It’s a good way to exhaust yourself too.” Crowley pointed out.

“Well, what would you suggest?!” Aziraphale asked. It came out a little harsher than he intended, and he took a deep breath in the silence that followed. Guilt was already settling in. “I’m… Sorry. I’m just stressed out.”

“I know, Angel.” Crowley soothed. Aziraphale relaxed in spite of himself. “Hey. Why don’t you come over here?”

Aziraphale came to stand in front of Crowley, tentatively. Curiosity killed the cat, but it absolutely  _ tortured _ Aziraphale. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, “Is this supposed to help somehow?”

“Squeeze my hand.” Crowley commanded, wiggling his right hand, splaying his fingers out. Aziraphale reached out and laced his fingers with the demon’s, giving them a soft squeeze. Aziraphale felt the tension drain out of him as love and adoration filled the void. “There, that’s nice,” Crowley commented. They stayed like that for a moment, until Aziraphale felt grounded enough to let go. 

“Thank you.” He said, softly. 

“Now, if you get nervous, just remember,” Crowley reminded him, “Even if this goes badly, they will never find us on alpha centauri.”

“Oh, do shut up.” Aziraphale countered. “Remember, I  _ can _ gag you.”

“I thought you  _ didn’t _ want me to get a boner?” Crowley questioned. 

Aziraphale was about to snap back with something (surely to be witty), but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. 

They both froze, immediately feeling on edge. 

“Show time.” Crowley said, weakly. 

Aziraphale nodded curtly. He walked up the stairs, hyper-aware of the fact that he was leaving Crowley alone. It was a necessary evil in this case, but he still didn’t feel great about it. 

Before the door, Aziraphale straightened his jacket and took a steady breath. His hand met cool metal, and he forced his face into a neutral mask as he turned the handle, opening up Crowley’s home. 

Gabriel and Michael stood outside, clipboards in their hands. 

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel exclaimed, pulling him in for an unwelcome hug. It was too tight, and Aziraphale would have suspected it to be an act of sarcasm if he thought Gabriel knew what sarcasm was. “How’s my favorite little bookworm doing?”

“Sorry for stopping by like this, we’re sure that you’re busy.” Michale said, all business. Aziraphale nodded, and took a step away from Gabriel as soon as he had released him from his grasp. 

“Not a problem.” He said, waving it off. Then, he stepped aside, gesturing for them to come forward. “Do come in. This is the demon’s lair, but it’s quite habitable now that I’ve gotten rid of the stench of sulfur.”

Aziraphale took a moment to be grateful that Crowley wasn’t within hearing range. He wouldn’t want the demon to think that he  _ actually _ smelled bad. 

“You’re keeping the demon contained, yes?” Michael questioned. 

“No, Michael, he lets it run loose like a house pet.” Gabriel responded, sarcastically. Oh, so he did know. Gabriel added, “Let’s cut it with the stupid questions. We don’t need a house tour, Aziraphale. We’re actually pretty busy, so if you could just show us the demon so we can confirm to head office that your paperwork was accurate, we can be on our merry little way.”

Aziraphale could have danced a gavotte at the rush. This looked like it was going to be much less trouble than they were originally anticipating.

“Right, of course. This way.” 

Aziraphale lead them down to the basement. 

Along the way, he felt his anxiety curl up into a ball before exploding into a raging inferno as soon as his hand touched the handle of the door. He pushed it open anyway. 

Crowley looked… Well, tortured. His hair was ruffled up, his back was slumped in the chair, and Aziraphale could tell from here that he was clenching his jaw tightly for added dramatic effect. 

“This is the demon?” Gabriel questioned, walking into the room ahead of Aziraphale. He immediately approached Crowley, leaning down and squinting. “Is this… Crowley? The demon that started the Spanish Inquisition?”

“The very one.” Aziraphale confirmed. 

“I see my reputation proceeds me.” Crowley said, flatly. 

“Silence, infernal swine. The angels are talking.” Gabriel snipped. He turned towards Aziraphale, opening his arms in a grand gesture of fanfare. “You sunuvabitch. You really did it.”

“Yes, I most certainly did.” Aziraphale confirmed, looking down and trying not to feel guilty. 

Heaven thought that kidnapping, extortion and torture were  _ good _ things. And here he was, playing into that narrative. 

“The bad news is that you caught a dumb one. The spanish inquisition was  _ great _ for Christianity. Witches were almost entirely eradicated in the region.” Gabriel informed him. Aziraphale tried to control the skin-crawling sensation that hearing “The spanish inquisition was great for Christianity” gave him. 

“Let’s stay on task, Gabriel.” Michael reminded him. She turned towards Aziraphale, eyes searing. “Do you have plans accommodating for an eventual escape of the prisoner?”

Aziraphale hopped right to it, walking over to Crowley and pulling up his right hand sleeve to reveal the small metal bracelet. They had practiced this bit. “Yes. This bracelet has two sigils on it; one that will prevent the demon from talking about his captivity, and one which will bring him to my location upon request. It cannot be removed by the individual wearing it.”

“Impressive. Where did you find the sigil work to do magic like that?” Michael asked, intrigued. 

Aziraphale felt sweat bead on the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to respond, but-

“Oh, come on. Do the semantics really matter?” Gabriel asked. “I’m more interested in hearing what he’s planning on  _ doing _ with the demon.”

“Mostly this.” Aziraphale said, quickly. “But also, occasionally, let him go about his business. He can’t tell hell about his imprisonment and could potentially bring back vital information.”

“Smart.” Michael said, nodding. Then she looked at Gabriel. Several expressions, all of which too fleeting to be read, passed between them. 

Aziraphale glanced towards Crowley, trying not to panic. They seemed to have some kind of silent dialogue running, and he wondered whether or not it was good. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as they carried on in the silence. It had practically become suffocating by the time Michael broke it. 

“Alright, Aziraphale.” She said, softly. “It seems like you know exactly what you’re doing, and we have the confirmation that head office wanted.”

“We’ll be in touch, of course.” Gabriel added. “What you’ve got going on here is just… fascinating. I’d  _ love _ to sit in on an interrogation session sometime.”

“Yes, well. Maybe when heaven is a little less busy.” Aziraphale said, not meaning it at all. 

“Of course.” Gabriel said. “I’ll let you know if I ever escape my mountain of paperwork.” There was a pause, and he turned to leave. “Welp, I guess we’ll just… see ourselves out?”

“That would be most adequate.” Aziraphale responded. “You do remember the way, yes?”

“Of course. Good day, Aziraphale.” Michael responded. 

“Safe travels.” Aziraphale said. 

“Get bent.” Crowley added, and Aziraphale shot him a glare. 

Michael and Gabriel had no response for that; they didn’t even acknowledge that Crowley was still in the room. She turned and walked through the door, and her and Gabriel were headed up the stairs. 

Aziraphale held his breath until he heard the minute click of the front door closing behind them, and he turned to Crowley, grinning as relief flooded him. His hands began to shake, and he let out an almost frantic laugh. 

“We did it.” He said, quietly. “I can’t believe we really did it.”

“Yes, yes, all in good show.” Crowley responded, rolling his head back to crack his neck. “But we still have one more meeting to go, and that one will be arguably a lot harder to pull off.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before walking over to Crowley. He moved his hands down to Crowley’s leg and used the anchor as a balancing point as he dropped to his knees. Crowley’s breath hitched sharply.

“Angel, what-?”

Aziraphale’s fingers found the knot that he had tied along Crowley’s ankle and untied it. He felt a heavy presence return as Crowley’s powers came back. 

“I’m just undoing the knots, Dear.” Aziraphale said, confused. What else would Crowley think he was-




Aziraphale’s hands froze on the rope. Crowley had, for a moment, thought that Aziraphale was going to dominate him. And… He didn’t seem too upset by the idea, judging from the way he was blushing. Aziraphale wished desperately that the angels hadn’t come today, that Crowley’s eyes weren’t covered by his glasses. Maybe then, Aziraphale could read them.

“You know,” Aziraphale said, cautiously, “Maybe we could do something like this for Hell, sometime? Ironically enough, wouldn’t me showing dominance be the ultimate sign that you’d corrupted me? There’s no deniability that I’m enjoying myself there. Since I have full control over the situation.”

Aziraphale would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the twitch in Crowley’s pants. 

And he felt a little bit bad for it. He knew that Crowley was just into the domination portion of things, and that this was any submissive or switch’s natural reaction to thinking someone was dropping to their knees to suck them off while they were helplessly tied to a chair. But Aziraphale wanted to… Flirt with the idea. He wanted to “practice” with Crowley. 

“Hmmmmnnngggfhun.” Crowley responded, or something like it.

“I’m afraid you’re mumbling again, darling.” Aziraphale undid the other side of Crowley’s body, leaving him free. He reached out and began rubbing soothing circles on Crowley’s wrist, where the rope had been. 

“I think that’s a good point.” Crowley tried, and this time his words came out in English. 

“Good.” Aziraphale mumbled, his hands working to massage Crowley’s muscles. Crowley relaxed, and Aziraphale decided to add on some praise. “You did a wonderful job today, by the way.”

“You… Don’t have to give me aftercare. You know that, right? I understand that this arrangement-”

Aziraphale looked up sharply, immediately searching for Crowley’s eyes. He found his vision frustratingly blocked by those infernal glasses.

“Are you okay with it?” Aziraphale asked, resisting the urge to withdraw his hands. He didn’t know whether or not Crowley might find it uncomfortable that Aziraphale wanted to take care of him like that. Aziraphale knew that this was something he wanted to do out of love and devotion; what if Crowley sensed that? What if it made him upset?

“YES.” Crowley blurted. “Of course! I just mean you don’t have to go through the trouble, that’s all.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale considered. He knew what he wanted to say.  _ ‘You are worth it, you are deserving.’  _ But he didn’t have the strength to actually go through with it. “It’s no trouble at all, really.

Aziraphale switched to the other arm, his fingers rubbing slow and deliberate circles as Crowley further relaxed into his touch. 

They sat there for a solid few minutes, Aziraphale enjoying this casual, intimate touch far too much to stop. 

When it finally would have been too much to go for even a moment longer, Aziraphale reluctantly released Crowley’s arm. 

“We should probably go eat some breakfast.” Aziraphale said, turning towards the kitchen and thinking about a nice plate of sausage links and eggs. 

“I’m thinking we should order in.” Crowley suggested. “We still have quite a bit of time until Hell comes. We could get some pastries from that French place a couple of blocks from here? They’re better than store-bought.”

Aziraphale’s mouth started to water.

“You know, your sloth knows no limits. It’s a two-block walk and you want to order in.” He said, flatly. But he had to admit that he didn’t particularly feel like doing any walking either. “But of course I want the pastries.”

Aziraphale and Crowley ended up sitting on the couch, watching reruns of “My Strange Obsession” on TLC. Crowley kept pointing out little inconsistencies that he insisted proved the series was fake, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but agree, for the most part. It was an awfully… scripted show. 

They ate the entire bag of pastries, which should have by all rights fed four people. By the time Aziraphale was drifting off to sleep, he was happy and contented, the sweet taste of a raspberry crown still clinging to his palate. 

“Angel,” Crowley said, softly. Aziraphale startled, sitting up slowly.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“It’s two. We should really get started setting up. At the very least, make this place look  _ a little _ less lived-in. It might have worked for your angels, but Hastur and Ligur will point out that there are two peoples’ worth of dishes in the sink.”

“Then tell them you have a kink for making me cook and punishing me when I burn your food.” Aziraphale argued. He couldn’t believe that the time was passing that quickly; they must have managed to watch half a season of this garbage. 

“C’mon.” Crowley tried again, nudging Aziraphale. Aziraphale stood, stretching upwards. He didn’t feel like doing the dishes, but they had agreed to no miracles today. 

The time was passed quickly, a few short chores here and there, chattering to keep both of their anxieties at bay. The clock struck three all too soon, and at three-fifteen, Crowley proposed that they go to the basement and set up. 

Aziraphale stood in the carpeted room nervously, waiting for Crowley. Crowley was as of now changing into his lingerie. 

He bit his lip, turning away from the door. Aziraphale was  _ nervous _ . Not as nervous as he had been with heaven, but…

“Angel?” Crowley said, softly. Aziraphale turned. He hadn’t even heard Crowley come into the room. 

He was standing in the doorway, beautiful as ever in that fetching lace piece. Aziraphale couldn’t help that his eyes wandered, taking in every inch of available skin that Crowley displayed. “Yes?”

“Are you ready?” Crowley asked. 

“Of course. Thank you,” Aziraphale responded, “For checking up on me, of course.”

“Any time.” Crowley mumbled. He looked somewhat frozen in the doorway, tense. Aziraphale wondered whether or not they had made a mistake. 

“If you’re not comfortable with this, we can-”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted, “I am  _ perfectly _ comfortable with this. I am more than happy to continue.” Crowley seemed to break out of his trepidation then, because he walked forward until he was close enough to put a hand on Aziraphale. But he didn’t. “But if  _ you _ aren’t comfortable, we can call the whole thing off.”

“I feel nervous,” Aziraphale admitted. Then, he added, “But it has nothing to do with you. At least, not with any of this part of it. I’m worried they’ll see through us.”

He gestured between them, hoping that Crowley would get the gist of what he was saying. Crowley seemed to, as he nodded thoughtfully. Aziraphale was the one to break the silence that followed.

“I think we should probably get things set up now. Where do you want me?”

“I think your hands secured to the Saint Andrew’s cross might be a good idea. With your back facing towards them. You won’t have to manage your facial expression.”

“Are you implying I’m a bad actor?” Aziraphale asked, fully offended. Not that he would be  _ acting _ , of course. Crowley turned him on terribly. But Crowley didn’t know that, and he was fairly determined to keep it that way. 

“No!” Crowley said, defensively. “I just thought it might help with your nerves.” 

“Right,” Aziraphale teased, “Next you’ll be telling me that just playing the tree is going to be helping with my nerves.”

“Oh, put a sock in it.” Crowley said. He waved his hands towards the cross. “And go assume position. With  _ significantly _ less clothing than you’re wearing now.”

Aziraphale assumed that that was Crowley’s way of making sure that he had the option to keep his underwear on, if he needed to. And, as tempting as the idea of letting Crowley touch his bare skin was, Aziraphale knew that keeping them on for now  _ would _ be easier on him, with the potential for an audience. 

Crowley turned around, heading towards the ‘implements’. Aziraphale unbuttoned his shirt and stepped out of his pants. He watched as Crowley’s hands ghosted over the whips and paddles and canes, one by one, before selecting a thicker riding crop. Most likely for the aesthetic, Aziraphale assumed. 

Aziraphale walked over to the Saint Andrew’s cross, standing in front of it and reaching his hands up towards the attached cuffs. He held them firmly in place, waiting for Crowley. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale felt a warm presence, and Crowley was there, pushing up against him from behind as he reached up to close the cuffs around Aziraphale’s wrists. 

Aziraphale held in his shudder, and bit his lip as his cock twitched against his boxer briefs. 

“Not much longer now.” Crowley said, pulling away. Aziraphale missed the warmth against his back. 

“No, I suppose not.” Aziraphale confirmed. 

“Is there anything you’d like to hammer out before they get here? Any places I should avoid hitting aside from the obvious, kidneys and the such?” Crowley asked.

_ No, but I’d like to tell you that I’m desperately turned on _ . “Nothing comes to mind.”

A couple of seconds passed, and Crowley gasped. Aziraphale turned, eyebrows crinkling as Crowley ran over to the chair and picked something up, darting back to press it into Aziraphale’s left hand. 

“Almost forgot the pen.” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale was about to point out that he could have just tapped on the wood or miracled one in an emergency when there was a sharp knock at the door. 

They both looked at each other, sharply. Aziraphale saw a look of determination replace Crowley’s desperation, and Crowley placed a hand delicately on his arm.

“I’ll be right back.” He promised. 

Crowley walked upstairs and Aziraphale heard some talking-- a low voice he could only assume to be Hastur, and a higher, more fearful voice that he could assume to be Hastur’s assistant. 

After a few moments, footsteps started down the stairs. Aziraphale flinched, his heart beating heavily in his chest. The door cracked open, and he resisted the urge to turn around. 

“This is the angel himself.” Crowley’s voice was a comforting sound, “All trussed up and ready for me. Isn’t that right, Angel?”

“Yes, Sir.” Aziraphale responded. Then, for added effect, “Do your worst, Hellspawn.”

“He doesn’t seem to be very well trained.” Hastur observed. “I assume you’re doing your best to break him of that?”

“Oh, yes.” Crowley purred. “Angel over there just earned twenty lashings. But he  _ knew _ when he said it that that would be the outcome..”

Crowley moved behind him, and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. He knew that Crowley was going to hit him, right here, in front of these… well, demons. They’d discussed it at great length. 

But Aziraphale hadn’t quite prepared himself for how much it would  _ turn him on _ . 

Crowley’s steps towards him were quiet, but they sounded like drums in Aziraphale’s ears as the demon came closer.

The crop delicately rested across his ass, and he held his breath. Crowley pulled back the crop, and Aziraphale tensed, waiting for the sweet, sweet sting of the crop against him. 

“Stop, stop,” Hastur said. Crowley froze, and Aziraphale released his breath slowly, trying not to feel disappointed. “I’ve seen enough. You’re clearly not lying about this angel here.”

“Well,” Crowley said, mock-offended, “I would have thought Hell would have had more faith in the demon that  _ invented heeleys and then personally banned them everywhere _ .”

“Yes, yes, you made many children miserable,” Hastur’s assistant added, their squeaky voice breaking into the conversation, “But Beelzebub wanted to make sure before they came here themself.”

“Before they…?” Crowley questioned. 

“Yes,” Hastur responded, dryly. “I might not have any interest in seeing this, but Beelzebub would like to make sure you aren’t just torturing the angel and calling it corruption.” 

“I mean,” Crowley put in, “Surely you can attest to that now?”

The nervousness in his voice was clear. 

“Oh, I’d rather not.” Hastur said. “This was fine, but what Beelzebub wants to see is outside of my comfort zone, what with how disgusting I find your face and hair and attitude. Everything about you, really.”

“What does Beelzebub want to see?” Crowley asked, flatly. 

“This, I suppose.” Hastur said. Aziraphale could hear his clothing rumple as he shrugged. “But a bit more of it. I’m just here to make sure they don’t waste their time.”

“Of course.” Crowley said, dryly. “Then I should likely see you out. Wouldn’t want you to end up wasting more of your valuable time. You’ve priests to tempt, after all.”

“Thank you.” Hastur said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Nobody ever acknowledges how important my time is.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale heard Crowley’s voice get softer as he walked away, “It can be difficult to receive any appreciation when you literally work for hell. After you, gentlemen.”

Aziraphale heard two sets of footsteps go up the stairs. Crowley’s voice drifted through the now-empty room, “I’ll be back in a jiffy, Angel. Best be ready for your punishment.”

Crowley followed them upstairs. 

Aziraphale felt disappointed that he wasn’t going to be “punished” today. He knew that as soon as Crowley came back down there, they would be discussing Beelzebub’s impending visit, making plans about what to do and how to do it. Aziraphale’s hard cock was neglected, pressing up against his boxer-briefs. But it wasn’t like he could take care of it right now; they were going to have important things to discuss.

He sighed. 

On that note, what  _ were _ they going to do about Beelzebub’s visit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is about to start getting spicier real quick.   
> Leave me a comment telling me what you think they're gonna do about Beelzebub's visit ;-) <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who this might bother, please note that while it looks for a moment like things might be going in that direction, this fic has no drunk sex.   
> Without further ado, please enjoy.

“What are we going to do about Beelzebub’s visit?!” Crowley asked, reaching up to undo Aziraphale’s bindings. Aziraphale dropped his hands to his sides, shaking them lightly to help restore proper blood flow. 

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” Aziraphale said. “They just want to make sure that you’re really corrupting me, right? We’ll show them that I’m falling into depravity. Give them something they can’t deny.”

“How?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale rubbed his wrists, concentrating on the feeling of his own skin as he slowly processed their options. He had an idea, but he wasn’t certain of how Crowley would react. Aziraphale didn’t know whether or not he would be taking it too far. 

Crowley must have noticed then that Aziraphale was rubbing his wrist, because Crowley’s gentle hands were suddenly replacing his own. 

“I’m sorry,” Crowley mumbled. “This really should be my job. You’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll focus on getting you taken care of first.” 

He rubbed Aziraphale’s wrists with a gentle tenderness that Aziraphale eagerly soaked up. Aziraphale felt himself melting under Crowley’s touch. 

“No, you’re right.” Aziraphale said. “We need to figure something out, since they clearly suspect that this isn’t actually corrupting me. But we’re both stressed out right now, and we deserve to take some time to calm down before we work everything out.”

“I s’pose that is the case.” Crowley agreed. “After all, we did trick Heaven today. That’s one out of two. Fifty percent isn’t bad.”

“Not when you have the chance to redo the other fifty.” Aziraphale agreed. Crowley released his arm, and reached out to grab the other. Aziraphale let Crowley take care of him, grateful for the distraction. 

Crowley’s eyes flickered to the bed, and Aziraphale’s eyes followed. 

“Would you like to lie down?” Crowley offered. “Those blankets  _ are _ the softest thing in the house.”

Aziraphale wanted to say, ‘ _ aside from you _ ’, but barely managed to reign himself in. Instead, he nodded, allowing Crowley to lead him over to the bed. He lifted the sheets and climbed in, leaving plenty of space to the side. Crowley hesitated, his eyes flicking back and forth between Aziraphale and the empty space, as if he wasn’t sure he was being invited. 

“Physical affirmation is a standard part of aftercare for both parties.” Aziraphale pointed out. “It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for you to… join me, if you would like.”

Crowley immediately scrambled into the bed and under the covers, pulling them up to his chin as though he was convinced the invitation would rescind itself. Despite his obvious enthusiasm, he still didn’t slide over towards Aziraphale. He stayed laying there, motionless, stiff and waiting. 

Aziraphale hesitated. Reminding himself that Crowley seemed more than fine with the casual touches they had showed each other so far, he contemplated snuggling up to the demon. After all, snuggling was nothing compared to what he was going to suggest they do in front of Beelzebub.

Aziraphale shifted under the sheets, hands reaching out until they found skin. 

He scooted close to Crowley, putting his head tentatively on the demon’s corset-covered chest as their legs barely touched under the comforter. Crowley breathed in above him, a deep and steady breath. When he released it, Aziraphale felt him relax, and Crowley’s arm snaked around him, bringing him closer. 

“What are we going to do, Angel?”

His voice was a soft melody in Aziraphale’s ears. He was certain that one could float away on it, had he not been tethered by Crowley’s arm around his shoulder. 

He hesitated. 

But he knew that waiting to bring up the most obvious solution to their problem would be a mistake in the long run. If it did get shot down, they would need the most time they could get to come up with another plan. 

“You know,” Aziraphale said, nervously, “We could always just. Give them what they want.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Well,” Aziraphale swallowed. “They want to see me…  _ enjoying _ myself, yes?” 

“Yes,” Crowley agreed, tentatively. 

“And they want that enjoyment to be tied to an overt act of sexuality.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I could, um…” Aziraphale suddenly lost all of his nerve, and had to stop himself from shrinking down into the covers and hiding until this whole situation had gone away. “You know what? Forgive me. I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to suggest it.”

“What were you suggesting?” Crowley asked, incredulously. “Angel, any idea is a good idea right now.”

Aziraphale realized then that he’d said too much. It was too late to back out of it now. Crowley would eventually figure out what he was going to say anyways, and Aziraphale was going to agonize over his reaction until he did, and it would just be better to get this whole thing out of the way now.

“Maybe we should give them some display of a deeper sort of… sexual gratification?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe I could… Be very  _ obviously _ enjoying… performing some sort of lewdities… Maybe even... “

“C’mon, spit it out.” Crowley encouraged. 

“Maybe I could perform fellatio?”

A long, stunned pause followed this admission. Aziraphale turned his head further into Crowley’s chest, shame making his face burn. He reassured himself that he wasn’t, in fact,  _ just _ doing this because of his own selfish desires. It really was the most obvious, most simple solution to the problem. 

Finally, Crowley broke the silence. 

“On  _ me? _ ” He squeaked, his voice cracking. 

“Well, certainly not on any of  _ them! _ ” Aziraphale responded, sighing. “Anyways, I said that it was a stupid idea. I fully understand why you wouldn’t be comfortable with me-”

“I never said that!” Crowley interrupted. Aziraphale fell silent. “It’s just.. I would be… be, um… Worried? About you being comfortable?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t think that I would be comfortable with it.” 

“Oh.” Crowley said, falling silent. He was tense as a brick underneath Aziraphale, and Aziraphale fully regretted saying anything. 

“We can come up with another idea,” Aziraphale said, quietly. 

“Hmmmmuumphrumph, guh.” Crowley responded, before clearing his throat and trying again. “If you’re really comfortable with it, that’s a good plan.”

“Well,” Aziraphale responded, “I  _ am _ comfortable with it, and it  _ is _ a good plan. So I suppose that means I’ll be sucking you off, then.”

Aziraphale’s eyes drifted down to Crowley’s crotch. He could see a very small tent forming underneath the covers, and his mouth watered at the thought that he might soon be able to know what Crowley tasted like. 

“If you wanted,” Crowley reasoned, “I could get you off instead.”

Aziraphale’s cock gave a  _ throb _ at the idea. He was just happy that he wasn’t pressed up against Crowley, or lying on his back, like Crowley was. The demon didn’t need to know how terribly aroused this conversation was making him. 

“I… Don’t think it’s necessarily  _ necessary _ to do that, per se. But it  _ would _ make it seem a little more believable.”

“So, is that a yes or a no?” Crowley clarified. “Not that you need to answer now, of course, you can obv-obviously take your time and  _ think about it _ , if that’s what you-”

“It’s a yes,” Aziraphale responded, and then had to resist flinching away from how  _ eager _ his voice sounded. 

There was a long silence between them, and Aziraphale focussed on trying to get his erection under control, letting his mind wander. 

“You know,” Crowley said, slowly, “We should probably, erm… Prac...tice?”

His voice squeaked up again. Aziraphale found it absolutely fetching. 

“What, now?” He asked, eyes widening. Aaaand there went the progress that he had made trying to get himself under control. 

“Not now!” Crowley exclaimed. 

“Then when?” Aziraphale asked, trying desperately to contain his excitement. 

God above, Crowley was going to  _ touch him _ . He was going to get to touch Crowley, he was going to get to  _ taste _ him, they were going to-- They were  _ going to get each other off _ . Aziraphale almost pinched himself. 

“I dunno. Planning it seems kind of… Forced?” Crowley asserted. Aziraphale had to agree. “Why don’t we just let it happen naturally? Whenever we’re both in the mood. One of us can just… initiate it.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea.” Aziraphale agreed. “We wouldn’t want to make it more awkward by some sort of… ludicrous scheduling.” 

“Right,” Crowley agreed, laughing. 

“I’m sure the right moment will come along.”

~~~ 

The right moment  _ did _ come along. Several times, in fact.

Unfortunately, both of them missed it. 

And missed it again. 

And again. 

Ang  _ again _ . 

~~~

Two days after that incident, they were standing in the kitchen. The smell of bacon was wafting through the kitchen as Aziraphale finally completed his first successful batch. Crowley followed his nose over to the pan, standing behind Aziraphale and letting his chin drop to the Angel’s shoulder. 

Aziraphale turned back, looking at Crowley with a fondness in his eyes that made the demon feel warm trickle through him. 

“Smells good, Angel.” Crowley informed him, locking his fingers into place over Aziraphale’s waist. Aziraphale wiggled his hips, removing the last piece from the frying pan. 

He turned around in Crowley’s arms, his hands being placed firmly on Crowley’s biceps as he admired the Demon’s bedhead. Crowley knew that Aziraphale would fix his hair for him if he left it messy, so he more often than not rolled directly out of bed and into the living room. 

Aziraphale reached up, as anticipated, to run his fingers delicately through Crowley’s hair. Crowley made a small, appreciative sound in the back of his throat. Aziraphale sighed in response. 

“Honestly,” He tutted, “You really need to invest in a  _ hairbrush _ , Crowley.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“But I  _ prefer _ when you do it for me.” He asserted. 

Aziraphale blushed deeply, letting his hands slide down to Crowley’s chest. Crowley’s eyes glanced downwards, towards where Aziraphale was biting his own lip. A warm, possessive feeling filled him, and his fingers itched to run themselves through Aziraphale’s hair, pulling his head to the side and pressing hot kisses along his neck. 

Aziraphale tilted his head, ever so slightly. Crowley’s eyes flickered back towards his, seeing what he  _ thought _ was an invitation. 

And even if he was wrong, it’s not like it would be a big deal. They had  _ talked about _ one of them initiating it. Worst come to worst, Aziraphale would tell him that he wasn’t in the mood, and they would agree that it would be better left to later. 

Crowley leaned down, ever so slightly. He parted his lips, remembering the sweet taste of Aziraphale’s skin. God, he wanted to leave marks… 

Nervous anticipation swept through him. 

He tried to push it down. 

The fear of rejection swept through him. 

He tried to push  _ that _ down. 

He gazed intensely at Aziraphale’s open, inviting skin and tried to lean forward, imagining his angel  _ moaning _ in  _ complete ecstacy _ , and-

Crowley pulled away, blushing furiously. 

He  _ chickened out _ . 

_ Coward,  _ the little voice in the back of his head whispered. 

“I can’t wait to try some of that bacon!” He said, lamely. He gave a forced laugh and slinked over to the table, pulling himself up into the chair and staring hotly at his own hands, fingers crossed in his lap. 

Aziraphale set a plate in front of him. 

“Thank you.” Crowley said, picking up his fork. 

~~~ 

Aziraphale  _ really _ liked his time in the shower. While he had initially taken to miracling himself clean, the invention of indoor plumbing and hot water heaters had given him good reason over the past couple of hundred years to take care of it himself. 

He stood under the spray, letting the warm water caress his skin. He hummed lightly, leaning back and letting the water pelt down his shoulders, run rivets along his scalp. He relaxed his sore shoulders (always sore, it seemed). The heat made him feel  _ alive _ . 

Aziraphale had taken almost every shower he’d ever taken in an empty house. Which was why he didn’t think to lock the door. 

And Crowley had lived alone for hundreds, if not thousands of years, which is why Aziraphale suspected the handle jiggled without a cursory knock.

The door swung open, and Aziraphale jumped. He grabbed the curtain and pulled it back, peering out from behind it. 

Crowley was looking at him with wide eyes and a slight flush along his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry!” Crowley apologized, immediately. Aziraphale noticed then that he was wearing significantly less clothing than he typically did; his bare chest already collecting a dewy sheen from the hot steam hitting his skin. A towel was loosely wrapped around his waist. 

“It’s no bother, really.” Aziraphale was thankful for the flush the warm water caused across his body; Crowley wouldn’t be able to tell that the extreme redness of his face was due to embarassment. “You’ve seen most of it before, I assure you.”

“Right,” Crowley breathed. Aziraphale didn’t miss the way Crowley’s eyes wandered down (or did they?) removing the thin shower curtain (or were they?) and taking him into view (he assumed). “Welp, I, uh… Better go wait my turn.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth. He wanted to say,  _ Why don’t you join me? _

The fantasies danced in his head. Crowley climbing in, Aziraphale getting hard in seconds, dropping to his knees while Crowley roughly fisted his hair… 

Crowley began to turn, walking away with quick steps.

“Wait,” Aziraphale said, suddenly. Crowley turned in the doorway, hesitating. Aziraphale breathed in, opened his mouth, and waited for the words that would make his fantasy a reality to come out of his mouth. His cock twitched eagerly. “I’ll only be a few minutes, just so you know. You might want to… Wait outside the door.”

“Right.” Crowley said, nodding. Aziraphale wondered whether or not he was imagining the disappointment he saw in Crowley’s eyes. “Thanks for the heads up.”

And he disappeared from Aziraphale’s sight, shutting the door behind him. 

Aziraphale cursed himself. Six  _ thousand years _ of pining, wanting,  _ lusting _ , and he couldn’t quite get over that little voice inside his head that kept whispering that Crowley didn’t want him. 

Mainly because Crowley  _ didn’t _ . Aziraphale had to keep reminding himself of that. This was just a practice run, anyways. 

“Still missed a good opportunity.” He sighed to himself. 

He placed his back against the wall, looking down at his hard cock. Crowley would feel it if he were to do a miracle now, so he decided to take care of it the old fashioned way. 

After a couple of minutes of fantasizing about Crowley climbing in the shower and having his way with him, Aziraphale was rinsing off, stepping out and handing the bathroom off.

~~~ 

Aziraphale was lying on top of him. Crowley was running a hand soothingly through his hair. He gave a drunken hiccup, which caused Aziraphale to burst out in a fit of  _ giggles. _

“Oh, sod off.” He groaned, shaking his head. 

“You’d hate it if I did.” Aziraphale pointed out. “You’d be left all exposed to the elements.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” Crowley sighed, letting the warmth that he felt for Aziraphale flow through him. He wasn’t sure whether or not Zira could sense love coming from a demon, but if he could, Crowley knew that he was royally  _ fucked _ . Usually, he had a better handle on his emotions around him.. “I can’t go losing my heat lamp.”

“Aaaah, yes,” Aziraphale murmured, drowsily, “I always knew that I was the light of your life.” 

“Oh yeah,” Crowley responded, sarcastically, “You get me all  _ hot _ and bothered, too.”

“Oooh, Crowley. I do believe you just turned up the  _ heat _ in this conversation.”

Crowley was too drunk to think of any other puns. So, he helpfully added, “Lamps.”

Aziraphale laughed hard before nuzzling himself into Crowley’s neck. Crowley’s hand twitched where it sat on Aziraphale’s lower back, and Crowley imagined just how easy it would be to drift it a little lower. Him and Aziraphale could sober up in an instant. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whined, tilting his neck further back. 

“What?” Aziraphale questioned, giving an over-exaggerated sigh. The hot breath on Crowley’s neck made him shiver. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Crowley suggested. He knew that he never would have had the balls to suggest that fully sober, and he thanked God above and Satan below for inventing a good dry red to loosen his lips. (He thanked them both because he wasn’t really sure whose idea it had been in the first place). 

“It  _ would _ be more comfortable to wake up there.” Aziraphale agreed. He groaned, standing up slowly. Crowley followed close by, already missing Aziraphale’s peculiar brand of warmth as Aziraphale lead them back to Crowley’s room. It was dark, but both of them could clearly see. 

Aziraphale climbed under the covers, blinking up at Crowley with drowsy eyes. Crowley felt his heart stutter in his chest as he reached up towards the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them. He let his shirt fall to the ground behind him, all too conscious of Aziraphale’s eyes raking along his skin. 

“That’s a splendid idea.” Aziraphale commented. He reached down and grabbed the bottom of his own sweater, pulling it swiftly over his head. “You’ll get warmer faster with more skin contact.”

Crowley paused, his brow furrowing. 

His own words echoed on repeat.  _ Come to bed with me, Angel _ . 

Oh, bloody hell. Aziraphale had thought that he’d meant for them to sleep together.  _ Just _ sleep. And… 

Damn it all if that wasn’t the most fucking adorable thing Crowley had ever heard in his LIFE. 

Aziraphale patted the bed beside him impatiently, and Crowley scrambled to join him. His earlier sensuality was forgotten in lieu of the feeling of overwhelming warmth he felt in his chest. He slid between the covers and the sheets and eagerly sought Aziraphale’s body, pulling him close, and squeezing him tightly. 

“You really are a snake.” Aziraphale said, making himself snort-laugh. 

Crowley didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his life. 

~~~ 

When they woke the next morning, Crowley spared a quick miracle to get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth and the pounding in his head. On second thought, he spared another quick miracle for Aziraphale. 

Last night came flooding back to him, and he had to laugh. Since Aziraphale was  _ wrapped in his arms _ , the angel slowly roused, offended at the interruption. 

“Whatsoever are you amusing yourself with?” He questioned. “I’m trying to continue to sleep and you are making quite a comfortable addition to the bed if you would kindly settle yourself.”

“Sorry, Angel.” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale tighter against his chest while he had the opportunity. He pressed his lips to the skin of Aziraphale’s shoulder and continued, “Just… Thinking about last night.”

“Well, think about it quieter.” Aziraphale huffed, leaning into Crowley’s touch. “Unless you’d like to share with the class whatever it is you’re finding so funny.”

“No, no, no.” Crowley said, his cheeks immediately turning hot. He did  _ not _ want to speak about his failed plans of seduction. 

Aziraphale went silent for a little while. Crowley assumed he was off the hook until the angel gasped, sharply. 

“Last night!” Aziraphale said. Crowley groaned. “Last night, you were trying to… Seduce me! And I, being the idiot that I am, assumed you meant… well, I assumed you meant that you wanted me to sleep with you _ literally _ .”

“S’okay.” Crowley reasoned, trying to bite back his own embarrassment on the topic. “This was helpful, too. Definitely feel more comfortable with skin-to-skin contact.”

Crowley snuggled into Aziraphale to help prove his point. It had nothing to do with hiding the embarrassment written all over his face. 

Aziraphale sighed, deeply. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, and Crowley felt himself relax again. Every minute, no, every  _ second _ he got to spend touching Aziraphale like this was an absolute fucking gift. He wasn’t about to be the one to get up and ruin it. 

“You know,” Aziraphale said, slowly, “I think that we might want to… Rethink the… letting it happen naturally bit.” 

“Oh?” Crowley questioned. Relief flooded through him. 

The last three days he’d been on constant high alert. He felt like he was  _ always _ prepared for the right moment to come along. And then, when it inevitably did, he tucked his tail between his legs and ran away at light speed. 

“I feel like… I feel like we might both be missing some cues.” Aziraphale said, sheepishly. “I wanted to invite you into the shower yesterday morning.”

Crowley pulled away sharply. 

“I wanted to  _ get in _ that shower!” He exclaimed. 

Aha! So it  _ hadn’t _ been his imagination when he saw that Aziraphale had hesitated. Whew. That was certainly a relief-- and that little sense of security, the assertion that they  _ both _ wanted to practice… Well… Crowley would be a real wimp if he didn’t initiate something now, wouldn’t he?

Good thing he absolutely  _ was _ a real wimp, and remained perfectly still up against Aziraphale. 

“It sounds like we might need to stop beating around the bush.” Aziraphale said. “And just do it already.”

“I fully, whole-heartedly agree.” Crowley responded, immediately wincing when he realized how enthusiastic he sounded. 

“Then how about now?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley’s brain ground to an immediate halt as he realized that this was  _ really happening _ . 

“Like…  _ Now,  _ now?”

“The anticipation is killing me.” Aziraphale admitted, wiggling and squirming until he had managed to turn himself around in Crowley’s arms. His bright blue eyes looked up into Crowley’s, and Crowley felt his heart physically stutter. 

“Y-Yesssss,” Crowley said. He knew that his eyes must be entirely yellow at this point, and his morning wood was  _ definitely  _ taking interest in the way Aziraphale’s body was flush against his. 

He was unable to help the squirm that he gave, his skin flushing hot. Aziraphale leaned forward, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips to Crowley’s jaw, his hand sliding down Crowley’s shoulder, to his side, to grab at the hem of Crowley’s sleep pants. 

(Something must have been looking out for him; he had changed out of his skinny jeans before they began drinking last night). 

“Is this okay?” Aziraphale asked, against his skin. Crowley shuddered as he eagerly nodded his head, not trusting himself to say anything at the moment. 

Aziraphale continued his kisses, making his way up to Crowley’s ear lobe before stopping to nibble. Crowley’s cock  _ throbbed _ with want as he let out an  _ embarrassing _ keening noise. 

Crowley felt Aziraphale smile against his skin as he slid his fingers delicately under the waistband of Crowley’s pants. Crowley’s hips buckled involuntarily as Aziraphale pulled his head back, looking Crowley in the eyes as he took his cock in hand. 

Crowley hissed, biting his lip. He groaned, his head falling backwards as Aziraphale gave a couple of short, awkward pumps, inhibited by the sleep pants. He surged forward, pressing little kisses against Crowley’s neck. 

Crowley felt like he was about to explode. 

“Let’s get these out of the way,” Aziraphale complained, pulling at Crowley’s pants with his free hand. 

Crowley reached down and grabbed the hem of his pants. Aziraphale removed his hand from inside them so that Crowley could slip out, and Crowley did a  _ highly undignified _ little jumpy move so he could free himself from the fabric prison. 

As soon as his cock was exposed to the cool air, Aziraphale was reaching for it again. Crowley’s pants fell to the floor as Aziraphale began to pump his cock, this time with a skill that was damn near expert. 

“Fuck fuck  _ fuck _ ,” Crowley exclaimed. An intense heat pooled in the bottom of his stomach as waves of pleasure caused his muscles to shake. He tried to stop his hips from bucking upwards, but to no avail. 

Crowley was  _ torn _ . He wanted to look, wanted to watch Aziraphale’s face. But he couldn’t stand the eye contact they made when he did; Aziraphale’s eyes were full of wonder, blown wide with lust, and Crowley could  _ almost _ delude himself into thinking that he saw  _ love _ swimming in those bright blue pools if he looked closely enough. 

His left hand came to cover his face as he blushed a deep scarlet. He was nervous-- oh  _ so _ nervous-- but Aziraphale’s other hand was running its way sensually across his skin, up and up, across his collar bone. Aziraphale’s hand closed around his wrist as he stopped pumping his cock. Crowley almost whined at the loss, but barely restrained himself. 

“Dear?” Aziraphale asked, tugging at Crowley’s hand. Crowley dropped it, revealing his full face. Aziraphale’s hard dick pressed up against his own pants, and Crowley’s cock twitched embarrassingly at the sight. “Please let me see your face. If that’s alright?”

Crowley groaned, but nodded. 

“Please just keep going,” He requested, restraining himself from  _ begging _ by sheer force of will. Aziraphale gave a small hum of appreciation, and he started pumping again, faster this time. 

Crowley was moaning and writhing in no time, his dick pulsing in time with Aziraphale’s pumps, and he felt as though every atom he had was coming apart at the  _ seams _ with how much he  _ wanted _ this, wanted Aziraphale. 

“There we are.” Aziraphale mumbled, leaning forward to press wet kisses along Crowley’s rib cage, “I like being able to see your face.”

“Aaannnngeeeel,” Crowley complained. Aziraphale must have taken it as encouragement, because he pulled back, looking Crowley dead in the eyes.

“You’re so  _ beautiful _ like this.” Aziraphale said, the intensity in his eyes immediately breaking past any barriers Crowley had set for himself. 

“Fuck, fuck, Angel, I’m gonna cum.” Crowley said. Aziraphale sped up. 

“Let me see you cum, L-L-Let me see it .” Aziraphale said. Crowley caught the unusual stutter, but didn’t pay it any attention. Because his angel was asking him to  _ cum _ .

His self-control was finally pushed to the limit and he came  _ hard _ , coating his stomach and Aziraphale’s hand with his release. He was breathing heavy and his body felt like jell-o as he came down from the high. 

Aziraphale performed a small miracle to clean both of them up, and snuggled into Crowley. Crowley was dazed, his eyes closed as he lounged in the absolute  _ perfection _ of what had just happened. 

Aziraphale’s hard cock pressed against his leg as Aziraphale snuggled into him, and Crowley found himself suddenly  _ determined _ to unravel the angel. 

Crowley wasted no time in flipping over, pinning Aziraphale’s hands to either side of his head. “Can I do you now?”

Aziraphale’s pupils were blown wide, his face flush with arousal as Crowley dominated his senses.

“Yes!” Aziraphale said, his hips canting upwards in want. Crowley grinned, leaning down to kiss a wet trail down Aziraphale’s jaw as he moved, leaving him shaking in his wake. 

Crowley wanted to say the  _ dirtiest _ things to him. He wanted to eat his Angel up; to lick the sweat from his skin and leave behind large, dark marks. He wanted to make Aziraphale shout his name. He wanted to find what made him tick,  _ just like that bastard had done for him _ , and then tick it again and again and  _ again _ . 

Crowley worked his way down Aziraphale’s body, pausing at his nipples. He glanced up to watch Aziraphale’s reaction as he sucked one into his mouth, his tongue flicking delicately over it. Aziraphale groaned, his hand fisting itself in Crowley’s hair. Crowley kissed across his chest, giving the other the same treatment. Aziraphale was panting. 

Crowley felt a rough tug of his hair and he hissed in pleasure-pain. If he miracled away his refractory period, he would be hard again in  _ seconds _ . Even now, with his cock still sensitive and spent, it gave a twitch of interest at Aziraphale’s assertiveness. 

“Stop teasing,” Aziraphale asked. Crowley sensed a note of dominance in his Angel’s voice, and he continued kissing his way down. 

“Why not?” He questioned, between hot, wet kisses, “Don’t you deserve a little bit of a tease, Angel?”

Aziraphale blushed a deep scarlet, his hand loosening somewhat in Crowley’s hair. As much as Crowley would  _ love  _ to play around with Aziraphale being in control  _ later _ , that wasn’t what he wanted now. Now, he wanted to make Aziraphale come apart  _ ever so slowly.  _

Crowley had been waiting for this moment for thousands of years. He’d been waiting to see his Angel’s face contorted in the throws of pleasure, and he wasn’t going to let Aziraphale get away without some much-deserved teasing. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, as Crowley pressed a hot kiss through his pants, against his cock. Crowley’s hands found Aziraphale’s waistband and tugged, and Aziraphale canted his hips upwards in assistance. Once they were off, Crowley threw the offending clothing off the side of the bed, redoubling his focus on Aziraphale. 

“You look fairly desperate.” Crowley observed, watching the way it made Aziraphale’s face blush, “Why don’t we see what we can do about that?”

He leaned down and pressed slow, deliberate kisses along Aziraphale’s inner thigh. Aziraphale spread his legs wide for him, and Crowley considered it briefly before he performed a small act of transformation upon himself. 

His tongue was now the forked serpent’s tongue he had had in the garden. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale complained, his hands tangling in Crowley’s hair again, “Are you going to make me wait all day?”

Crowley allowed himself to drift upwards, his eyes searing into Aziraphale’s as he stuck his tongue out, giving Aziraphale’s shaft a nice, long  _ lick _ . 

Aziraphale let out an absolutely  _ pitiful _ sound, and Crowley almost deepthroated him right there out of sympathy. 

Instead, he moved on, pressing kisses against Aziraphale’s other thigh. 

“You,” Aziraphale accused, “Are a dastardly man.”

“I’m a Demon, angel.” He reminded Aziraphale, softly. “Dastardly man is practically the job description.” 

“Will you just  _ suck me already _ ?” Aziraphale asked, impatiently. 

“What’s the magic word?” Crowley asked, smirking. 

“I’m not going to say anything.” Aziraphale huffed. Crowley wondered whether or not he should give in, but... Judging by the way he was biting his lip, Aziraphale was very,  _ very _ into this.

“Alright.” He purred, “Suit yourself, Angel.”

Crowley moved back to Aziraphale’s other thigh, stopping to press a feather-light kiss to the top of his cock along the way. Aziraphale’s hips twitched upwards, and Crowley grinned. He began to add more force to his kisses, sucking soft marks into Aziraphale’s skin. They would most certainly fade, but it made Crowley feel deeply satisfied to have his marks on him, even if only for a moment. 

“You aren’t  _ really _ going to make me say it?” Aziraphale asked, tentatively. Crowley glanced up, and weighed risk and reward. He knew that Aziraphale had checked this as a solid ‘yes’ on his list, meaning that he was very much so interested. 

After all, they were practicing for something like this in front of an  _ audience _ , and he knew that that would have to be quite a convincing performance. Aziraphale would have to beg.

“I think you  _ want _ to.” Crowley observed. He held his breath for Aziraphale’s reaction, his eyes flickering across the Angel’s face for any indication that what Crowley said wasn’t okay. When he found nothing but  _ arousal _ accompanying the shock on Aziraphale’s face, Crowley continued, “I think you want me to make you ask for it. That’s what’s making you so hard, isn’t it?”

His fingers turned into claws on Aziraphale’s thighs, and he gently raked their sharpened tips across Aziraphale’s skin. Aziraphale was silent, and Crowley became hopeful as confliction flickered across Aziraphale’s angelic features. 

He added a little bit of  _ teeth _ to his next kiss, nipping Aziraphale’s thigh softly. Aziraphale’s hips bucked up, and he  _ saw _ the moment when Aziraphale broke. Desperation flooded his features, his eyes closing tightly and his voice quivering.

“P-Please.” Aziraphale said, quickly. Crowley pulled away from his skin, looking up at him with his lust-fueled gaze. 

“I’m going to need you to be a little bit louder,” Crowley purred, testing his luck.

“Please, Crowley!” Aziraphale requested, his face burning with a mixture of shame and arousal. 

Crowley gave in then, finally paying attention to Aziraphale’s aching cock. 

He ran his tongue along Aziraphale’s shaft in long, skillful strokes, the two sides splitting to wrap halfway around the length. Aziraphale’s hips bucked upwards, and Crowley noticed the way his fists tugged at the bedsheets. Aziraphale tasted musky and sweet, an altogether unexpected combination that went straight to Crowley’s own, now fully interested, dick. 

One of his hands came up to hold the base of Aziraphale’s cock as Crowley paid specific attention to the head. Aziraphale let out a whine as Crowley swirled the two tips of his forked tongue across the most sensitive part of his body. 

Crowley knew the amount of stimulation he was giving Aziraphale would eventually make him cum. He knew that Aziraphale was  _ enjoying _ the teasing that he received. But Crowley  _ himself _ couldn’t handle it anymore. Aziraphale looked so  _ pretty _ glistening with sweat, panting, letting out little keening noises. He decided to have some mercy. 

“Do you want more, Angel?” He asked, sweetly.

“Yes, of course!” Aziraphale responded, tugging at Crowley’s hair. Crowley could have  _ purred _ at the sensation. 

Crowley finally took the head into his mouth, sinking down slowly as he got used to the feeling of Aziraphale’s warm cock against his tongue. The tip hit the back of his throat and he kept going, accommodating Aziraphale as only one who lacked a human gag reflex could. Aziraphale groaned as Crowley’s mouth hit his base. 

Crowley swallowed. 

Aziraphale shook as Crowley’s tongue worked along his shaft, his throat rhythmically milking his head. It could have been minutes, could have been seconds, Crowley had lost track of time. But he knew that it wasn’t  _ that _ long until Aziraphale tugged on his hair in warning.

“Crowley, I’m going to-”

Crowley  _ moaned _ at the thought of Aziraphale’s cum sliding down his throat, and the vibration sent Aziraphale overboard. Crowley felt the hot, wet slickness of cum sliding down his throat as he pulled off of Aziraphale’s cock, a couple of smaller spurts landing on his tongue. He swallowed those too, sucking Aziraphale clean as he let Aziraphale’s softening shaft go. 

He crawled up, pressing every inch of skin he could against Aziraphale’s before snuggling firmly into the Angel’s neck, holding him closely. 

_ I should have done that in the garden _ , Crowley almost said, but stopped himself. 

“You gave a very convincing performance.” Aziraphale commented appreciatively, his arms wrapping around Crowley in return. 

“I tried.” Crowley said, trying to stop the sarcasm from dripping into his voice. 

He was ecstatic. He was elated. He felt safe, and happy, and warm, and cared for, and he knew that this encounter would be one he replayed for himself for  _ centuries _ to cum (pun intended). He felt… elated, satisfied, ecstatic, validated...

But Aziraphale’s words echoed around in his head.

A ‘very convincing  _ performance’. _

He felt a little sad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment :3c  
> Sorry I'm a little late on the update, I forgot that today was update day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fun and comedic chapter. I hope it serves yall some much-needed de-stressing.

Aziraphale and Crowley had been awfully close the last few days. 

They hadn’t repeated the ‘practice’ incident, although Aziraphale assumed it was because it was just that; practice. They had done everything they needed to do to make sure that they were prepared for the real thing. Granted, they had discussed it happening the other way around; Crowley had been the one to give Aziraphale a blowjob. 

Which had been a  _ most welcome _ surprise for Aziraphale, of course. Not that he understood  _ why _ Crowley would do it, but… Well. He wasn’t complaining.

But after a few days in the house doing nothing but replaying the incident over and over again as every little touch drove them both mad, they were starting to get a little stir-crazy. 

~~~

“I… Need to get out of this damn cottage.” Anathema announced, unceremoniously. Newt eyed her from behind his cup of steaming hot tea. 

“Did I… Do something wrong?” He asked, blinking. 

“No! No, Newt. Of course not.” She rushed to comfort him. “But I just…”

Anathema buried her head in her hands and let out a series of sounds that were not unlike the sounds a newborn bobcat would make if it was facing a grizzly bear. 

She had been doing research for  _ weeks _ now. Sure, she had made some really good progress with some help from Aziraphale, but she wasn’t going to be ready for anything real any time soon, and when she closed her eyes at night, she had began to see the off-white of the walls behind her eyelids. Not the garden, not Newt, not even the pages of the books she was studying. The walls. 

Newt laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she raised her head to glance at him. Her eyes, as they always did, flickered to his lips. 

“I think I need to spend some time doing something,  _ anything _ , other than research.”

Newt looked at her carefully, and she could tell that he was deciding how to say something. That was one of the things she loved about him; he thought before he spoke. It definitely didn’t stop him from making a royal ass of himself sometimes, but it helped to know that it was never on purpose. 

“I think you might need to make some friends.” Newt pointed out, dryly. Anathema tilted her head to the side, eyebrows scrunching together as she thought. 

“I… Suppose you’re right.” She agreed. “I never had much time for those growing up, what with being a professional descendant and all. But how do you...  _ make friends _ ?”

“Well, you could start by trying people who you already know?” Newt suggested. “Is there anyone who you share interests with?”

She thought of Aziraphale and his stuffy old wonderful book shop, its shelves lined with classics and harlequin romances he hid in the back and treatises on witchcraft… 

Sure, there was a pretty significant age difference, but Anathema had always been pretty mature for her age. She didn’t get along well with other kids as a child; they told her she was weird, too obsessive, too opinionated. 

If she was going to be friends with anyone, it might as well be the centuries-old angel who made her laugh and shared her penchant for not quite getting jokes. 

“Alright.” She agreed, giving a curt nod. 

“So, friends it is?” Newt questioned. 

“I’m going to… Make a friend!” Anathema declared, determination swelling inside of her. She realized, after a few moments, that Newt was staring at her with the most peculiar, glazed-over expression. His eyes were glassy and his lip was turned upwards into the faintest smile. 

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek softly, and then bolted out of the room and down the hallway. 

She had left her phone in the bedroom, and had a few texts to send. 

~~~

“And why-” Crowley asked, rubbing his temples, “Are we going  _ bowling _ again?”

“It will do us some good to get out of the house.” Aziraphale reminded him, sternly. “And Anathema, who is our  _ friend _ , has invited us. It’s rude to decline such an invitation when you don’t have anything else to do.”

“I don’t  _ have _ friends.” Crowley argued. 

“You’ve got me.” Aziraphale responded, smirking. “And I do believe you once called me your  _ best _ friend. So, we’re going.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, slumping down into the seat. He shouldn’t have let Aziraphale drive. It was going to take them twenty bloody minutes to get to the bowling alley. At a perfectly reasonable speed of ninety-five miles per hour, it would have only taken them five. 

Crowley was a little bit nervous about… Well, the whole thing. The only people he’d ever “hung out” with before were Aziraphale and a few other demons. And the other demons’ idea of fun had been burning down a school building and replacing a perfectly innocuous billboard advertisement with an advertisement for a Rick Astley concert that wasn’t actually happening. 

He’d never really had the chance to hang out with normal people before. Most of his relationships were strictly business, and the relationships that were strictly pleasure had been… Well, strictly  _ pleasure _ . 

...What if Aziraphale’s friends found him dreadfully boring?

What if Newt wanted to talk about a football game? 

What if Aziraphale realized that he was the  _ only _ person who ever really found Crowley interesting? 

And even worse...What if that made Aziraphale like him less?

“We’re here.” Aziraphale said, tentatively peering at him. Crowley jumped at the sound of his voice. He focussed on centering himself for a moment, and tried to shove down his growing anxiety. He needed to let go of that and have a good time tonight. For Aziraphale’s sake. 

“Awesome.” Crowley said, reaching down and pulling the door open. He exited the car and waited for Aziraphale to finish locking up before they made their way across the darkened parking lot, intermittently lit up by the street lights as they walked towards the building. 

Crowley pulled the door open for Aziraphale, waiting until the Angel had passed through to follow. 

It was noisy inside, and the carpet pattern was absolutely obnoxious. The room smelled like stale corn dogs and spilled beer, and Crowley could see a child’s birthday party in the corner. Several of the children were crying. 

Crowley relaxed a little bit, grateful for the familiarity. 

This was  _ just like _ hell. 

They reached the front of the line and the cashier glanced back and forth between them several times, his eyes squinting behind thick-rimmed glasses. 

“How many?” He questioned. 

“Four. Two of them are still on their way.” Aziraphale informed him, taking out his wallet. Crowley felt a little bit offended that Aziraphale thought that he was paying for this. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bill, and handed it to the man before Aziraphale could protest. 

“Fine.” Aziraphale huffed, as the transaction was completed. “But I’m paying next time.”

“Bowling lane seven will be yours. You’ll need to rent your shoes with these tickets.” The attendant said, handing Crowley four small slips along with his change. He punched a few more things into the register, and a receipt was produced. He tore it off and set it on the counter. Crowley picked it up, and him and Aziraphale made their way towards the shoe rental. 

“Zira!”

Crowley turned. Aziraphale turned too, his face lighting up as he saw Anathema running across the floor. She came  _ very _ close to plowing straight into them, but stopped at the last possible moment. She reached down and grabbed Aziraphale’s hands instead, eyes sparkling. 

“I am  _ so excited _ to get to talk to you about some of the research I’ve been doing.” She gushed, grinning. “There is so much more information on the supernatural than I would have expected from the Tadfield public library.”

“I’m… Quite happy to see that you’re so enthusiastic.” Aziraphale responded, stunned. Crowley’s mouth twitched upward.

“Um. Hey.” Newt said, jogging lightly in order to reach the rest of the group. Crowley acknowledged him with a nod. 

He… Really didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t. 

“Let’s go get the-” Anathema started. Crowley raised his hand with the tickets, and she cut herself off. “Oh. You guys didn’t have to do that! I invited  _ you _ out.”

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale waved it off. “We’re preternatural beings. We can more than handle it.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Anathema agreed. She turned towards the shoe rental then, groaning when she saw the line. “We should go start waiting now if we plan to be out of here by sunrise.” 

The line moved faster than they expected, the bowling alley supplying two separate employees to work it. When they got to the front, Aziraphale had to take off his shoe to get his shoe size. This meant that Crowley got to watch him hop around like an idiot as he attempted not to let his sock touch the floor, but kept losing his balance.

He couldn’t believe he was in love with this man. 

Once they all had their shoes, it was time to pick out bowling balls. 

Crowley went with a cherry red piece that gleamed in the light. It was one of the lighter ones there, which would be useful, he assumed. He didn’t want to look like an idiot carrying around a heavy bowling ball with his shoulder slumped towards the ground. 

“I think you should go with the green one.” Anathema told Newt, handing it to him. “This will bring out your eyes.”

“Shame they don’t have any yellow ones.” Aziraphale mumbled to him. Crowley most definitely did  _ not _ blush, thank you very much. 

They made their way over to the lane, and Newt positioned himself in front of the programming station. Anathema grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and physically pulled him back. 

“NO.” She declared, firmly. “You are not touching the technology. Not again. Not after what happened at Chuck E. Cheese.”

Newt stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “C’mon, you at least have to admit that the mouse  _ deserved  _ it.”

“I’m not arguing that.” Anathema agreed. “But your cousin’s touching display of forgiveness won’t get us out of paying for repairs here.” 

Anathema went through a few screens, programming their game. Crowley watched in interest as she specified no bumpers, selected the ‘team’ option, and began entering their names. She put down her real name, but Newt was unfortunately thereafter dubbed ‘Computer Virus’. 

“Do you  _ have _ to be like this?” He asked her. She grinned as she walked towards the seats he had selected for them. His comment was pointedly ignored.

“You can put in whatever you and Zira prefer.” Anathema told Crowley, gesturing towards the screen.

Crowley knew that Aziraphale would be more or less hopeless when it came to technology, so he walked over to the screen and thought for a moment. He assumed that you were  _ supposed _ to give your partner a nickname. After all, it was what Anathema had done for Newt. Common practice, right?

So, he put his own name under ‘Anthony’ and put Aziraphale down as ‘Angel’. He walked and sat down in the seat next to Aziraphale as the display began loading their game. 

Anathema’s turn was first. She stood, grabbed the ball, and approached the alley with intense concentration. 

Crowley stretched out, his arm landing comfortably across the back of Aziraphale’s chair. It was  _ not _ a move. Crowley just felt more comfortable taking up space. He was a big, scary demon, after all. That’s what he was  _ supposed _ to do. 

Plus, if he did that, maybe nobody would be able to tell how much he wanted to curl into a little ball of anxiety and hiss at anyone who tried to bother him. 

Crowley’s turn came up, and he walked to the end of the aisle, nervous as he rolled the ball across the hardwood floor. He hadn’t been bowling since it had been a new and exciting form of entertainment. The sport had practically died after Mii sports came out and everyone realized that fictional bowling was far more fun. 

To his delight, he got a strike on the first try. 

“Oh! Did you see that?” He laughed, pointing towards the pins. The ball had wobbled considerably on its way to the end, and he had  _ not _ been expecting that outcome. Honestly, he was lucky that he hadn’t gotten a gutter ball. 

He walked back towards the chair and let himself fall back into it triumphantly.

“Wait a minute,” She said, leaning forward and squinting at Crowley. “You aren’t cheating, are you?” 

“No!” Crowley answered, honestly. Aziraphale looked up towards the ceiling, his mouth pressing into a tight, amused line. Crowley had a profound realization as he turned to the angel. “Wait a minute! Did you?”

“I figured it would count as a natural advantage.” Aziraphale countered. Mischief glinted in his eyes, and Crowley felt his heart melt into a runny pile of demon-colored goo. God, he  _ loved it _ when Aziraphale did something bad.

“That’s not fair!” Anathema accused. “No more miracles. And we get to have one miraculous strike, too.” 

“Fine.” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley felt the  _ lightest _ bit of magic dance through the room as Aziraphale miracled a strike for their team. The computer glitched, and Anathema’s last score suddenly changed from a 7 to a big X. “Happy now?”

“Once we beat you fair and square, I’ll be ecstatic.” Anathema grinned. 

It turned out, Crowley was incredibly shit at bowling. Which  _ would _ have given him crippling social anxiety about bringing Aziraphale down with his scores,  _ if  _ Aziraphale hadn’t been just as awful as he was. 

Aziraphale threw his seventh ball, and it sailed through the air for several feet before landing on the wood hard. He watched in dismay as it veered sharply to the left, ending up in the gutter before it was even halfway to the pins. 

The little boy who had been bowling next to them turned to Aziraphale before looking back at a woman in a yellow hat. “Mom, why does that old guy suck?”

Crowley had the decency to look mildly scornful as he stared the kid down. His mother ran and collected him hurriedly, shushing him as she began explaining in soft, but  _ firm _ tones that you don’t say things like that when strangers can  _ hear _ you. Aziraphale walked back to the return and waited for the ball to come back with a resigned look on his face. 

His second try, he knocked down four pins. He came back to sit by Crowley. 

“Why is it that children always hate me?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley was unable to hold back his grin then. This had been a problem ever since the arc. There, a child had told Aziraphale that he looked like he’d lived his entire life avoiding work indoors. It was a big insult back in those times. 

“Children are just mean in general.” Crowley insisted, hoping to make Aziraphale feel better. 

“They’re never mean to you.” Aziraphale pointed out. Crowley shrugged.

“I’m sure they would be, if they got the chance.” 

At the end of the game, Aziraphale and Anathema decided to go and buy some of the atrocious bowling alley food they served. Crowley and Newt were left sitting alone at one of the nearby tables as they waited for their partners to come back. 

“So…” Newt began. 

“So.” Crowley mumbled, nodding. 

He wasn’t sure whether or not he was doing this socialization thing right, all he had to go off of was mimicking Newt himself. 

“You’ve been a demon for thousands of years, right?” Newt asked. 

“And you’ve been a human all your life?”

“Right.” Newt said, biting his lip. “Well, I was just wondering… Did you ever get to visit the town of Pompei? Like before all the volcano-y stuff?”

Crowley thought. He considered lying to end the conversation, but thought that that would  _ probably _ be considered ill-mannered of him. He gulped down a couple of drinks of water and dug back through his hazy memories. 

“Actually,” He said, “Have you heard anything about about some of that ancient graffiti they’ve been studying?” 

“Well, now I have.” Newt said, looking interested. 

“One bit of it says ‘Crowley walks like a slut’. Of course, it didn’t hold the same…  _ Negativity _ , that that word holds. That’s just the closest translation.”

Newt blinked at him owlishly.

“Did… Aziraphale write that?” He questioned, incredulously. 

A sharp stab of realization hit him as he was suddenly aware of the fact that it  _ could _ have been Aziraphale. Crowley contemplated that for a moment. 

He’d actually never found out which one of his associates that had been. He supposed he hadn’t really cared at the time. But there was no way it was… Although, they did meet that one night in the garden plaza right down the road from where he had found-

A beer was set down in front of him, interrupting his thoughts.

“We have food!” Aziraphale declared, setting down more drinks from his tray. Once he was finished, he sat the empty thing on a nearby table. Anathema sat a large pizza in front of them. It was cut into neat, overly greasy squares and covered in what Crowley was certain was every topping on the menu.

It was still only six toppings. 

Aziraphale sat down beside him, leaning forward as him and Anathema picked up their conversation where it had left off. 

“-And the ancient Sumerian text roughly translates to the last known location of the holy grail.” Anathema continued.

“If you want,” Aziraphale put in, “I can help you find a better translation than the one you’re using. Maybe there are clues that you’re missing because there are pieces to the puzzle you don’t know about?”

As they continued to prattle on about ancient sumerian and the benefits of cross-referencing copies of books written before printing was invented, Newt occasionally glanced at Crowley. 

Crowley had eaten two pieces of pizza when he leaned forward. “The two of them should honestly open some sort of library.” 

Crowley snorted, nodding. “Only Aziraphale would scare anyone off who tried to check out a book.”

“Oh my God.” Newt agreed. “You should see Anathema when I move old things without gloves on. She’s absolutely right and I’m trying to get better about it,” He admitted, sheepishly, “But I can just see her kicking someone out for getting cheeto dust on her favorite issue of Witchcraft Weekly.”

They fell into a comfortable, occasional banter then. Crowley slowly relaxed as Anathema and Aziraphale continued to support most of the conversation, and he found that (to his great surprise) he actually didn’t mind that much when something that one of them said dragged him into the conversation. 

“And Sumerian lore described a snake-shifter with iridescent eyes who told a king of a ritual that would bind an angel to the earth.” Anathema said. Crowley snorted. 

“Okay, so that one is actually bullshit. I would know, I was the snake.” He put in. 

“You’ _ re a snake shifter? _ ” Newt demanded, jaw dropping. 

“What, you aren’t?” Crowley questioned. Newt laughed, but it seemed a little bit… Forced. 

“More importantly,” Aziraphale put in, “What made you lie to that man?”

“Oh, he was a dick.” Crowley responded. “A real asshole cheavanist to me once. Asked me in front of the whole court whether or not the curtains matched the carpet.”

“What a dick!” Anathema exclaimed. Crowley nodded. 

“He got his ass handed to him by another king a couple of months down the line and I let it be. I could have stayed and fucked with him longer, but I figured that with all the petty drama and misinformation I spread I could get away with taking some time off.”

“I’m sure it was well-earned.” Aziraphale put in, dryly. Newt laughed, and it sounded just a  _ little bit _ too loud for Crowley’s tastes. 

He was nervous. It was obnoxious in there. His palms were sweating, and his beer was almost empty. 

“I’m going to go get another round.” Crowley announced. “Does anyone else want anything?”

“We’re good.” Newt responded. Crowley turned to Aziraphale, who shrugged. 

“Alright then. I’ll… be back.”

Crowley got up and walked across the plush carpet in the ridiculous bowling shoes he had forced his feet into, feeling entirely out of place as he went. God, what  _ was _ this? What was he doing??

Normal people didn’t have conversations about shifting into snakes and being featured in graffiti from Pompei. Normal people didn’t talk or act or think like he did. He wasn’t really sure why he had come here tonight, if he was being honest with himself. He had said too much, he  _ was _ too much, and he could just  _ tell _ that he was the laughing stock of the evening. 

Newt and Anathema would probably be going home talking about how fun Aziraphale was, and how next time, they would insist that he come alone to avoid the evening being ruined by a stupid antisocial snake whose only people skills involved lying. 

Crowley approached the bar, and decided that he needed something a little bit stronger than a beer. He ordered a shot, and he downed it. Then, so he wouldn’t be coming back empty-handed, he went ahead and refilled his glass, too. 

He could hold his alcohol pretty well.

As he turned to head back to the table, he came  _ this _ close to spilling his drink all over Aziraphale’s shirt. 

“AH!” Crowley shouted, jumping back and sloshing the beer on his hand instead. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Aziraphale apologized, but his eyes glittered with amusement. “I really do need to start making a little more noise.”

As much as he hated it, as much as Crowley wanted to be upset right now, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit better, seeing Aziraphale happy. 

But that glimmer of amusement quickly morphed into worry. Crowley felt his stomach tighten up. 

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley wished that he had ordered a double. 

“I’m fine.” He lied, lyingly, like a liar. 

“Oh, jolly good.” Aziraphale said. “Now that we have that out of the way, maybe you could try answering that again, but with the truth this time around?”

Crowley cursed Aziraphale’s intuition, and he sighed. He knew that he wasn’t going to get away with lying again; he would only upset Aziraphale even more than he already had. He might as well get it over with now. Let Aziraphale know that while it was nice of him to try to involve Crowley, he couldn’t really do the whole ‘friend’ thing. 

“I know I’ve always… Seemed good with people.” Crowley said, slowly. The bartender caught his eye as he made his way over, and Crowley sent him away with a glare that he hoped was scathing, and not sad. He turned back to Aziraphale. “I can make friends on assignments under false pretenses. But I… Can’t make  _ real _ ones.”

“Why would you think that?” Aziraphale asked, gently. “We’re friends, are we not?”

“That’s just the thing,” Crowley said, sighing. He was maybe a little bit huffier than was necessary. “You are the  _ only _ person who has  _ ever _ wanted to be around me, knowing who I am. All the rest are work obligations or people that I’ve been lying to.”

Crowley’s chest gave a tight squeeze, and he shut his eyes, forcing himself to remember that he was a member of the legions of the damned and shouldn’t give a fuck about friendship. 

“Crowley, that’s-”

“Newt doesn’t like me.” He said. It came out in a rush. “He’s clearly uncomfortable around someone of my…  _ disposition _ .” 

“That’s entirely unfair.” Aziraphale said, sternly. “To him  _ and _ to yourself. What would make you think that he feels that way?”

Crowley sighed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“No,” Aziraphale said, “I  _ would _ get it. I might be the  _ only _ one who can get it.”

He sat down on one of the bar stools, gesturing for Crowley to sit with him. Crowley did so, glancing around to make sure there were no humans listening in on their conversation. The last thing that they needed was to make a spectacle of themselves. 

“How do you figure?”

“Just as many humans have known of my real origins as have known of yours. That is to say,  _ none _ .” Aziraphale said, pointedly. 

“So?”

“So,” He continued, “That doesn’t mean they didn’t form lasting, impactful relationships with me.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so much better.”

“Oh, hush. I know well as anyone that there are some humans you spent entire lifetimes with. Partners, friends, found family.”

“And I lied to all of them to make them like me.” Crowley pointed out.

“Humans lie to each other all the time!” Aziraphale announced, a little too loud. The bar tender’s head whipped around, and he narrowed his eyes at them. They were silent for a moment, and Crowley gave him a small, sarcastic wave, attempting to radiate ‘mind your own damn business’ energy. Aziraphale lowered his voice as he continued, “That doesn’t mean that your relationships with them weren’t legitimate.”

“Humans don’t lie to each other on the level I had to lie.”

“You can’t lie a sense of humor into existence.” Aziraphale insisted, firmly. “You can’t lie a shoulder to cry on into existence. You can lie a backstory, but not one  _ you _ didn’t make up. Whether or not they knew about your true past, the humans who have loved you did so with your present in mind. They enjoyed  _ being around you _ .”

Crowley sighed. 

Oh, he fucking  _ hated _ it when Aziraphale had a point. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. He wanted to argue, wanted to find some way to defy Aziraphale’s logic, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t force himself to really  _ believe  _ it either, but… Well, there was time. And Crowley and Aziraphale had plenty of it. They could always have this argument again, somewhere else. 

“Newt is socially awkward. So is Anathema.” Aziraphale pointed out. “They’re both going to be a little odd. That doesn’t mean that they don’t like you. Anathema specifically invited the both of us.” 

Crowley did feel a little bit better, hearing that. 

“Yeah?” He questioned. 

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled, and he shared a small, secretive smile with Crowley. He leaned forward, as though this was the biggest secret of all of them. “She thinks you have a  _ lovely _ sense of humor.”

Crowley sighed, looking away. He hated that this talk had made him feel better. Especially since he knew he was going to go home and overthink it and beat himself up for every little social fumble he made later. But for now, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. For now, he had Aziraphale here with him. 

Crowley could deal with his crisis of self esteem later. For now, he wanted to make this night fun for the both of them.

“Well, I believe we have another game left to play.” Crowley observed, standing up. 

“I believe we do.” Aziraphale agreed, following. Crowley left the beer on the counter. His game was already bad enough without the addition of extra alcohol, and there was no point in him drinking it if he wasn’t doing it to get sloshed. 

As they walked across the carpet and back towards Anathema and Newt, a small child darted in front of him. Crowley came to a quick stop, and the child looked up, curiously. 

“Can I… help you?” He asked. 

“Do you need a hip replacement?” He asked. Crowley blinked. 

“What?”

“You walk the way my grandma walked when her hips kept coming out of socket, and she fixed it with a hip replacement. The doctors did it  _ super fast _ , and she healed real quick. If you need a hip replacement you don’t gotta be scared, she-”

A young woman swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere. She grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him out from in front of Crowley, whose face was burning bright red. 

“HONEY we don’t ask people QUESTIONS like that in PUBLIC,” She said, barely restrained rage in her voice. She turned to Crowley, mortified. “I am  _ so _ sorry, he really doesn’t know-”

“Hey, no, it’s fine. They’re all goblins.” Crowley reassured her. She looked mildly offended, but he didn’t care. 

She ushered the little boy off, back to the birthday party. Crowley glanced up to see Aziraphale holding in absolute hysterical fits. He looked ready to start howling at the drop of a hat. 

“You keep your mouth shut.” He said, walking past. Aziraphale fell into step behind him. 

“I guess you were right about kids ‘just being that way’.” Aziraphale said, grinning. 

“At least he didn’t write it on the walls for all of Pompei to see.”

“...”

“What? Thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Why did it take you so long to bring it up?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting a little further into the plot here, finally! Buckle up, folks.

Crowley picked up the phone on the third ring.

“Who the hell thinks it is acceptable to call me on the  _ phone _ ?” He questioned. Aziraphale smiled, his heart warming as he looked up at his demon. They were just settling in to watch the latest adaptation of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . 

Crowley’s face turned dark as he listened. 

“Why didn’t you go through the usual means?”

There was a pause as Crowley listened to the other side talk, and Aziraphale became concerned. The usual means…?

“Oh, I see.” Crowley continued. “Tomorrow should be fine, yeah. Mhmm. Anytime. That early? Well, alright. Praise Satan, or whatever.”

He hung up the phone, his face pale as he continued on to the couch and sat beside Aziraphale. Aziraphale waited, seeing whether or not Crowley would offer up the information on his own. 

“Well?” Aziraphale finally asked. 

“Hell is coming tomorrow.” Crowley responded. “That was Beelzebub themself.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale responded, his back hitting the couch as he slumped, processing what Crowley was saying. 

It made him nervous, of course. The legions of hell could bust down their door if they didn’t play their parts well enough, and they could kill Crowley or Aziraphale or the both of them in a heartbeat. 

But this news _ also _ meant that they were going to be intimate again. Which had Aziraphale hating himself for  _ looking forward _ to it. 

“Should we…. Discuss what we’re going to be showcasing?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley got an absolutely  _ lovely _ blush across his face, and Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat. 

“I think that’s a good idea. So neither one of us surprises the other.” Crowley agreed. “Do you want to have the conversation here, or in the dungeon?”

“I think that the dungeon might be more conductive to planning.” Aziraphale said. “What with the inspiration all around.”

“I would have to agree with that, Aziraphale.” Crowley said, standing. He gestured towards the basement. “After you?”

Aziraphale glanced back towards the TV and quickly grabbed the remote, pressing the button that Crowley had showed him would allow him to record the show for viewing at a later date. After all, when one has the ability to watch  _ Pride and Prejudice _ with the love of ones life, one must seize the chance. Even if it would have to be seized later. 

Aziraphale hurried down the stairs and pushed open the door to their dungeon. He took a few steps before turning and waiting for Crowley, who awkwardly sauntered in behind him. He could tell that neither of them wanted to be the first to start the discussion, and Aziraphale let the silence linger until he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“They… Want to see me enjoying sexually submitting to you.” He said.

“Yes. Do you still intend to…” Crowley swallowed, “Perform fellatio?”

“As long as you’re still comfortable with it.” Aziraphale confirmed. Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale continued. “I think that you should… encourage me to do it. Make it seem like you’re the one suggesting the idea.”

“That’s a good point.” Crowley agreed. “Definitely hits the submission angle. What do you think I should say, exactly?”

“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Something domineering.”

“Like…” Crowley thought for a moment, and tentatively continued, “Get those cocksucking lips over here, Angel?”

Aziraphale’s knees gave a little wobble as his imagination ran wild. 

“Um. I believe that would be  _ most _ adequate, yes.” He responded, flushed. Then, with the fantasy swirling around his head on repeat, he decided to make another suggestion. “And I should be wearing a collar. A sign of ownership like that could go a long way.”

“Do we already have one that will fit you?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale walked over to the bed and dropped to his knees, stretching his arm out as he bent down and grabbed the box of items they had determined to be exclusively kinky. He pulled it out and opened it, rummaging through until he found what he was looking for. 

It was a white thing, with golden hand-stitching and a large gold O-ring attached to the front. It was made of the softest leather. Aziraphale had had it for a few hundred years, but it had managed to hold up quite nicely. 

“That’s beautiful.” Crowley breathed. “Very fitting.”

Aziraphale’s hands moved without his permission, unbuckling the collar and running his fingers along the inside seam. He was so absorbed in the feeling that he didn’t notice Crowley coming closer. 

“Was this specially made for you?” 

“No.” Aziraphale responded. “It was in a marketplace in a town just outside of Soho. But whether or not it was made  _ for _ me, it’s still the most fitting one I’ve found.”

“So you’ll definitely be wearing that. And I’ll have the other end of a leash, I’m supposing.” Crowley said. Aziraphale felt a hot streak of desire tear through him, much to his surprise. 

He had never been leashed before, and hadn’t realized it was something he would be interested in until now. 

“Yes.” He said, firmly. He sat the collar down on the bed behind him, and turned back towards Crowley. His eyes briefly wandered up and down the demon’s form, remembering their last bit of “practice”. Aziraphale wanted to do it again. He didn’t  _ want _ to wait until tomorrow. “Maybe we should go ahead and flesh it out a little bit more while we have the time? I could put on the collar now, if you want.”

“I don’t see any reason not to.” Crowley responded. Aziraphale bent down and dug in the box again, looking for the leash. He found and removed it, the weight of the metal grounding as he placed it delicately on the bed. He brushed off his hands and stood, nudging the box back under the bed with his foot. 

Aziraphale grabbed the collar, sliding it along his neck. He jumped when he felt Crowley’s hand brush against his shoulder, but got the memo. He relaxed, releasing the collar and allowing Crowley to grab it, his fingers grazing lightly along Aziraphale’s skin as he buckled it. Aziraphale felt his thoughts quiet as he let the feeling of the collar settle around him. 

He hadn’t really realized before now just how much he would enjoy the feeling of being owned. At least, when the one owning him was Crowley. 

“Turn around.” Crowley said. Aziraphale turned, handing off the leash. Crowley grabbed it, and quickly hooked it to the O-ring attached to the collar. Aziraphale felt a heavy, comforting feeling in his chest. “Good.”

Aziraphale stayed silent, his excitement making itself evident as heat rushed downwards. He had barely been containing his arousal before, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to continue like this. Crowley walked a few steps, and Aziraphale waited until the leash tugged at the ring on his collar before he allowed himself to follow. 

Crowley slumped down in the chair, gesturing beside him. 

“Sit there.” He commanded. Aziraphale immediately dropped to his knees, feeling a deep satisfaction at obeying the command. God, he hoped Crowley would give him more. “Now… You know what those lips are good for. Come around and put them to good use.”

Aziraphale moved carefully, never rising from his knees as he moved from beside Crowley to in front of him. Aziraphale raised his hands to rest on top of Crowley’s thighs, his nails digging against Crowley’s skin ever so lightly as he moved them forward, towards the belt of Crowley’s pants. 

Aziraphale could see the effect that his submission was having on the demon. Crowley’s hardened cock was pressing up against his zipper. Aziraphale’s mouth watered at the idea of the  _ taste _ , the heady feeling of Crowley pushed up against the back of his throat. 

He couldn’t wait to make Crowley feel good. 

His fingers fumbled with the button of Crowley’s pants, and Crowley’s breath hitched. 

“Angel?” He questioned. Aziraphale looked up, expectantly. “Are you doing okay?”

Aziraphale was reminded of their situation, and he slowly withdrew his hands from Crowley’s zipper. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m doing fine. That was a wonderful test run. Sure to be convincing.” He said. 

He had to remind himself that what was happening here wasn’t real. Crowley didn’t actually want this the way that he did. They were doing this in order to provide a convenient excuse for their time together. Aziraphale had to stop letting himself get caught up in these scenes. 

“Oh, yes.” Crowley said. “Convincing.”

A few moments passed before Aziraphale stood, wincing at his dick rubbing uncomfortably against the front of his pants. He turned, showing his back to Crowley. “Will you take it off?”

Aziraphale knew that he wouldn’t be able to take the collar off, if he tried. He wanted it on too badly. 

“Yes, of course.” Crowley responded, smoothly. Aziraphale heard him stand, and he felt Crowley’s warm fingers on the back of his neck as the demon undid the buckle. “Glad we have everything worked out.”

“Me too.” Aziraphale responded. 

Without the weight of the collar around him, he felt too light. He ignored the feeling, and granted himself a small mercy, waving his hand and using a miracle to rid himself of his physical arousal. 

“I know things like this can be… Emotionally intense.” Crowley observed, delicately. Aziraphale could practically  _ hear _ the blush in his voice, and he almost wanted to laugh. Their whole  _ relationship _ was emotionally intense. “Do you want to go upstairs and watch  _ Pride and Prejudice _ ?”

Aziraphale wished, desperately, that this was aftercare from a real scene. He wished that Crowley had fucked him into submission. But he had to keep reminding himself that that would never happen.

...But this? This was still good. Aziraphale could deal with this. 

He could handle just  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . 

“That sounds lovely.” He said. And he wasn’t lying.

~~~ 

Crowley paced nervously around the living room, waiting for the doorbell to ring. They had gone with a more toned down uniform for this round, with Crowley’s usual button-up shirt and black trousers. Aziraphale was in a pair of loose sleep pants and no shirt, the collar around his neck and the leash securing him to the bed post. 

It had only been a couple of minutes, but to Crowley, it felt like  _ forever _ since he’d left his Angel. 

There was a sharp rap against the door, and Crowley answered it quickly. Beelzebub stood on the other side, flies circling around their head. Dagon stood attentively next to them. Crowley moved aside, gesturing grandly towards his foye. “Do come in.”

“I don’t need your permission.” Beelzebub responded, flatly. Crowley bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything that he might regret. 

“Why don’t you come on downstairs?” He said, instead. Beelzebub turned towards him, one of their eyebrows raising. 

“Is that where the prisoner is being held?”

“Willingly.” Crowley reminded them. “Yes, that is where Aziraphale is being kept. Come on, I’m sure he’s getting impatient.”

Crowley was the impatient one, and he knew it. It wasn’t just because Aziraphale was sitting pretty waiting for him, but also because Beelzebub made him nervous as fuck. Crowley would have liked to be able to say that his nerves were going to make the experience less enjoyable for him, would have loved to have had a little bit of dignity, but he couldn’t and didn’t. Doing anything with Aziraphale would be enjoyable no matter what. 

...And Crowley had a bit of a thing for exhibitionism.

They reached the door, and Crowley softly tapped it once to indicate that they were coming in. After waiting a moment, he grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. He was confronted by the sight of Aziraphale. 

He was sitting on his knees next to the bed, his hair mussed up. When he glanced towards Crowley, his pupils were blown wide. His pants were tented by the beginnings of an erection, and Crowley had to wonder whether or not Aziraphale had touched himself while he was waiting to make his arousal more believable. 

Remembering himself, Crowley stood up a little bit straighter, sauntering over to Aziraphale. “We’ve got an audience today, Angel. Are you ready to show them how good you can be for me?”

Crowley felt a little bit insecure, but forced himself to push past it, grasping instead at the feeling of trust and power lying just out of his grasp. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, nodding. He glanced furtively over towards Beelzebub, and Crowley wondered what Aziraphale must have done to have such believable acting skills. Maybe he had done a stint in the theatre that Crowley wasn’t aware of?

Either way, the act definitely helped Crowley. He reached forward, untying the leash from the bedpost. He stalked away, towards the chair. When he ran out of leash, he gave a short tug, and Aziraphale stumbled forward on his knees. Crowley felt the beginnings of a fire in his veins as he lowered himself down into the chair. 

“My, my.” Beelzebub said, somehow managing to sound as disinterested as always. “You have quite an obedient Angel.”

“Yes.” Crowley agreed. He waited until Aziraphale had come to a stop beside him, and he ran a hand affectionately through Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale leaned into the touch, and Crowley felt the tiniest hint of warmth. “He’s marvelously good at doing what he’s told.”

“And what is he told to do?” Beelzebub questioned, spurring them on. Crowley took a deep breath, letting himself fixate on the fact that Aziraphale was submitting to him. Aziraphale trusted him, Aziraphale wanted this… Even if it was only in this context. 

“He’s told,” Crowley purred, forcing up a kind of false confidence, “To get around here and put those pretty little angel lips of his to good use.”

Aziraphale moved around, his knees dragging along the carpet as he came to sit in front of Crowley. Crowley’s left hand clutched at the leash and Crowley’s right hand ran tenderly through Aziraphale’s hair as Aziraphale moved his hands up along Crowley’s legs, sending shockwaves of arousal through the demon. 

“Yes, Sir.” Aziraphale said, quietly. The words went  _ straight _ to Crowley’s cock, which twitched in enthusiasm. 

Aziraphale’s hands came up to brush lightly over Crowley’s bulge, enticing Crowley into a small buck of his hips. Aziraphale’s hands worked quickly then, unbuttoning Crowley’s pants. Aziraphale looked up, his eyes hooded and full of lust as he reached down, finding Crowley’s hardened cock and pulling it free of its prison. 

Crowley was  _ very _ aware of the fact that his boss was standing in the corner, and was about to watch the Angel suck him off. Crowley really wished that the thought of Beelzebub watching didn’t make him impossibly harder. 

Aziraphale leaned down, pressing a quick, tender kiss to Crowley’s effort. Crowley groaned in appreciation as his tongue slipped out, licking a long, languid line up Crowley’s cock until he was spit-slick. 

Aziraphale stopped at the head, his tongue briefly swirling around the tip. 

Crowley had to hold in a sound as Aziraphale’s mouth slowly began to sink down around his hardened cock. 

His eyes flickered up to meet with Crowley’s as he bottomed out around the base, and Crowley’s breath hitched. Aziraphale was being  _ so _ good, doing  _ precisely _ what he was told. His mouth was tight and wet and Crowley’s cock was flush against the back of his throat. Aziraphale waited just a moment, letting the anticipation build before he hollowed out his cheeks and started sucking, his head bobbing up and down in short, rhythmic movements. 

Aziraphale gave a broken moan, the vibration around Crowley’s cock making his nerves sing. Crowley’s hand tightened in Aziraphale’s hair, forcing him to stop with Crowley’s dick still in his mouth.

Crowley needed a couple of seconds to cool down, or he was going to cum  _ embarrassingly _ fast. 

“What a good little slut you are.” Crowley cooed, giving a small tug at Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale let out a whimper in response, which Crowley  _ also _ felt through his cock. He hissed, hips bucking up involuntarily. Aziraphale’s eyes shot open, and Crowley suddenly worried about choking him. They didn’t  _ technically _ need air, but he knew that it still wouldn’t be pleasant. 

Crowley released the hand in his hair, and Aziraphale looked up, questioningly. He pulled off of Crowley’s cock, giving a short, submissive lick to the underside as the sudden cool air made Crowley shiver. He pulled back, looking at Crowley for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether or not to say something. Embarrassment flickered in his eyes, and Crowley was burning with curiosity.

“F-- Fuck my throat, please.” Aziraphale requested, his face burning red. 

Crowley’s jaw almost dropped open. 

He knew that this was Aziraphale letting him know that he hadn’t hurt him, and he knew that he could easily say no-- after all, he was the one in charge here. But Crowley didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for saying no when he had the opportunity. 

Crowley remembered their guest all at once, and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Look at you,” He said, running his fingers back through Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale moaned enthusiastically as Crowley filled his mouth with his cock again. “You’re such a whore, asking for it like that. Asking for me to  _ use _ you.”

Aziraphale’s throat relaxed against his tip, and Crowley slipped it inside, hissing at how  _ tight _ it was. Aziraphale was shaking now, and he swallowed around Crowley. 

Crowley began with small, slow thrusts of his hips, letting Aziraphale get used to it. The angel seemed to have no qualms about this sort of activity, and Crowley wondered how much practice he must have had. God, he was  _ good _ . 

“He seems very well-acquainted with this ritual.” Beelzebub commented. Crowley laughed, and hoped it didn’t come out hysterical as he was  _ already _ beginning to feel the loss of control that signaled his orgasm. 

“Oh, Aziraphale has always been a natural cocksucker.” Crowley responded. Aziraphale moaned in agreement, and Crowley couldn’t help the sound that escaped him. He turned his attention back to his angel, his grip on Aziraphale’s hair a little bit tighter. 

There was a playful challenge in Aziraphale’s eyes, and Crowley  _ definitely _ wanted to stand up to it. 

Crowley’s hips began giving harder and faster thrusts as he gave in to his instincts, his head falling back against the chair. Aziraphale’s grip on his thighs tightened as Aziraphale gave in, letting Crowley use him. It felt dirty, taking his angel like this, Aziraphale’s submission clear in his lust-glazed eyes as he begged for Crowley to cum down his throat with every swallow. 

Crowley couldn’t handle it for long; the feeling of the tightening around his cock, Aziraphale’s weak moans, the feeling of Beelzebub’s eyes on them as he watched Crowley debaussing his angel. Crowley felt something break in him and the pleasure spiked as he continued to pound into Aziraphale’s mouth rough and hard before finally tipping over the edge, cumming in hot spurts down the angel’s throat. 

He released Aziraphale’s hair, and he slowly pulled off. His cheeks were flushed red, but a look of glossy satisfaction was clear on his contented face. 

Crowley’s eyes flickered up and down Aziraphale’s body as he leaned forward, using the leash to bring the Angel up from his position on his knees. Aziraphale stood, shaking as he did. Crowley’s eyes immediately fell to where his cock tented his pants. 

“Want me to take care of that?” He questioned.

“Yes.” Aziraphale said, softly. 

He gestured forward. “Come. Straddle me.”

Aziraphale’s knees landed on either side of Crowley’s hips, and he scooted as close as he could get. His head fell forward as he pressed his forehead against Crowley’s, looking into his demon’s eyes. Crowley felt overwhelmed by the intimacy Aziraphale was so brazenly displaying. He wanted so badly to kiss him. 

Instead, he grabbed Aziraphale’s pants and pulled them down just far enough to free his cock. 

Crowley’s hand wrapped gingerly around Aziraphale’s penis, never taking his eyes away from the Angel’s. Aziraphale groaned, and his eyes fluttered shut as Crowley’s grip got tighter. 

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale breathed, his hips moving as much as they could in this limited position, twitching up into Crowley’s every pump. Crowley responded to the request sadistically, his hand slowing. He didn’t want this to end; he wanted to make Aziraphale come apart before he would let him cum. 

“Open your eyes,” Crowley said, softly. He wanted to see Aziraphale’s pupils blown wide, wanted to see the pleasure there. Aziraphale did so, and Crowley was yet again overcome with the urge to kiss him. He could feel the angel’s hot breath mingling with his. He bit his own lip to stop himself from doing something he would regret.

He swiped his thumb over the head of Aziraphale’s cock, and Zira gave an urgent cry as his body lit up with pleasure. 

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale asked again, a little more desperate. 

“Do you really want me to go faster?” Crowley asked, his voice hushed. “Because I think you like this. The waiting. I think you like it when I take my time, taking you apart.”

Crowley didn’t know where this sudden confidence was coming from. From Aziraphale’s submission, probably. He’d fallen just a little too hard into the scene, and the careful control was coming naturally to him now. Aziraphale was panting, writhing, and the lust in his eyes made everything feel so goddamned real. 

Aziraphale shut his eyes tightly, not responding. Crowley took that as his cue to slow down even more. The hand that wasn’t on Aziraphale’s cock came up to grab the side of his face, and Aziraphale’s eyes came open again at the gentleness of Crowley’s caress. 

“Don’t hold yourself back, Angel.” Crowley purred. “I know you can cum from this. Doesn’t matter how slow I go. You just have to want it. Don’t you want it?”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley helped him out a bit, running his thumb over Aziraphale’s head again. Aziraphale’s hips bucked, and he gasped. “Crowley, I’m-”

“Yes, Angel?” Crowley purred. He kept his slow, steady pace. “So impatient. You know I’ll get you there, don’t you?”

“You always do.” Aziraphale responded, relaxing. Crowley repeated his thumb trick, and Aziraphale tensed again. He came undone, one stroke at a time, until he was flush all over and squirming again. “Please. Please, Crowley. I’m so close now.”

“Then you know what to do.” Crowley said, stubbornly leaving his pace in place. 

Aziraphale was like a teakettle ready to shout, just on the  _ cusp _ of his orgasm. Crowley felt powerful, knowing that his angel was going to cum, and cum  _ hard _ . He couldn’t wait to lick it from his own hand. 

Finally, Aziraphale couldn’t take it any longer. 

With one last swipe over his head, he was cumming with a cry. His hips jerked and his face became awash in pleasure as he clung to Crowley for dear life. Crowley kept pumping him through it, until Aziraphale had completely spent himself all over their chests. Crowley kept pumping until he could tell Aziraphale was too sensitive for it to feel any good. 

He finally let Aziraphale’s dick go, and raised his hand to his own lips. He made sure to wait until Aziraphale was watching before licking it off, the salty taste coating his tongue. 

Beelzebub spoke, and Crowley almost jumped. He had forgotten that they were even still there. 

“That was... strangely intimate. But I suppose it proves the Angel’s devotion to your debauchery, so I’m not complaining.” They shrugged, and Crowley felt a wave of relief. 

Aziraphale scrambled off of Crowley’s lap, self-consciously pulling the pants over his genetalia. Crowley didn’t miss his small hiss at the fabric gliding against him, and he wondered how sensitive Aziraphale might be. 

He wondered what it might be like to keep toying with him, long into his post-orgasm sensitivity. 

“Yes, he’s… Come a long way in a short time.” Crowley responded, standing. He spared a small miracle to clear the cum off of his and Aziraphale’s chests, hoping to preserve some of the Angel’s dignity. 

After what they had just done, and how wonderful it had made him feel, his main desire was to protect Aziraphale, and to make him feel safe. Right now, he wanted Beelzebub  _ gone _ . 

“I’ll be monitoring this project closely, of course.” Beelzebub continued. “Just to be safe. I’m not sure you would notice if things were to begin to get out of hand. You seem too close to the situation.”

“Out of hand how?” Crowley questioned.

“Well, he is an Angel. As a demon, you should know that they’re prone to rebellion.”

Crowley was reminded of his billion light year per hour free-fall into sulfur, and he nodded. “Alright, that makes sense. I’ll be sure to send frequent status updates.”

Beelzebub nodded. 

“Be sure to. Would you like to see me out? I do have more important things to handle today, as I’m certain you know.”

Crowley gritted his teeth. It was  _ just like _ upper management to schedule a meeting to observe you like you were some kind of an incompetent oaf and then proceed to complain about that meeting eating into their precious time. 

“Of course.” Crowley said. He glanced back towards Aziraphale, and his heart gave a small squeeze. He wished that he could stay here with him, he really did. But unfortunately, duty did call. 

He would be back in just a few seconds. Aziraphale could handle a couple of seconds, right?

He released the leash, leaving it to fall to the floor, and walked Beelzebub upstairs.

~~~ 

Aziraphale laid himself down on the bed, burying his face in one of the soft pillows. 

That had been… Humiliating, if he was being honest. 

And exhilerating. Sexy. Unbelievably hot, very desirable, and incredibly fun. 

He huffed a sharp sigh, trying to ignore the light feeling of shame that flushed through him. He had really enjoyed what had just happened, even if it was all  _ fake _ for Crowley. Crowley, who Aziraphale was beginning to realize was  _ very very good _ at hitting all of his kinks right in a row. 

Crowley, who he had loved for. Six. Thousand. Years. 

God, he was a fool. 

Now that he’d had a taste of the forbidden fruit, he couldn’t help himself from wanting to eat the whole thing. 

He heard steps coming back down the stairs, and he rolled into his back, crossing his feet at the ankles. The collar was still around his neck; he didn’t want to take it off. 

“Angel?” Crowley asked, opening the door. Aziraphale turned towards the sound, smiling. Crowley took a few steps into the room, his eyes scanning Aziraphale’s body up and down. “Are you doing alright?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Do you want anything?” He asked. Aziraphale thought for a moment. Well, there was a whole list of things he wanted, but most of them would be impossible. He wanted Crowley to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Crowley in return. He wanted Crowley to tell him that he loved him. He wanted to tell Crowley how he felt in return. He wanted Crowley to curl around him-

Okay, now there was one he could have. 

“How about some… Light physical contact?” He proposed. “To help both of us come down emotionally.”

“Of course.” Crowley agreed, walking forward and climbing into the bed. Aziraphale felt the covers shift, and Crowley was suddenly pressed up against his chest, his arms gently finding their way around Aziraphale. Aziraphale breathed in his warm scent, his hands grabbing Crowley’s shirt and using their grip to tug him even closer. “That went well.”

“Yes, it did. We were… Quite convincing.” Aziraphale said, trying to remind himself of what this was. 

“Yeah, but that didn’t stop Beelzebub from deciding to “check in” every once in awhile.” Crowley reminded him. There was a short silence. “Not that I mind, personally.”

“I don’t mind either.” Aziraphale said, a little too fast. He cleared his throat. “But that probably means we should continue practicing, and keep ourselves familiar with each other’s bodies and boundaries.” 

“Yes, of course,” Crowley agreed. “The best way to convince Hell that we’re doing this regularly is… Well, to do this regularly. As long as we’re both okay with it.”

“Right, of course. As long as we’re both okay with it.” Aziraphale agreed. He shifted, feeling warmth radiating through him. It was like he couldn’t get close enough to Crowley right now; the warmth of his love for the demon was roaring up in him like a blazing inferno. 

God, Aziraphale didn’t know whether or not he was going to be able to survive doing this regularly. What if he couldn’t contain himself anymore?

Crowley pulled him closer, and Aziraphale gave a satisfied hum. 

He closed his eyes, and forced his brain to shut down. 

He could worry about all of this later. For now, he was in the arms of his demon, and he couldn’t be happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week is the beginning of the 'so much wing kink' tag. Be looking forward to it ;-)
> 
> Please leave a comment!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, uh... Sorry this update is late? I was dogsitting and completely forgot about it, and then I didn't have my computer. Small miracles, though; this is a super long chapter. AND I'm publishing a oneshot with BDSM elements like RIGHT after I post this, so if you're interested you should check that out too!

“If we’re going to the nerd convention, you have to let me drag you out to the movies next week. There’s a new Marvel film coming out.”

“But I haven’t seen any of the rest of them!” Aziraphale argued, weakly. Him and Crowley had been taking  _ lots _ of liberties lately when it came to spending time with one another. Aside from Aziraphale spending the mornings in his bookshop three random days a week (as any respectable bookshop owner does) they spent  _ most _ of their free time with one another. 

But It would have gotten dreadfully boring, or worse, supremely  _ annoying _ , had they not known how to give each other space when it was needed. Both of them needed to have their own hobbies and time alone.

Neither one of them tried to fill comfortable silence. They knew how to work on different things in the same room. Crowley had finally broken and started painting in front of Aziraphale, (even when it had meant that the angel demanded to see everything he’d ever done). Aziraphale would sit at the kitchen island and leave little post-it notes in the margins of ancient texts. 

“‘I haven’t seen the rest of them’ isn’t a no.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Listen, there are a lot of large books that I’d like to be coming home with tonight.”

“What a sexy sentence, Aziraphale.” Crowley responded. 

“Shut up.” Aziraphale said, turning and looking at him pointedly. Crowley sighed, letting it go. “They’ll all be too heavy for me to carry by myself. I usually go it alone and miracle back the books I’d like, but this year, there will be more press coverage than there has been in years prior.”

“And?”

“And it will be much harder to make a book magically appear back in my shop unnoticed with all of the cameras milling about.”

Crowley nodded. Alright, that was fair enough. But--Wait a minute. Since when did boring old book conventions garner press coverage?

“Why is the press going to be there?” Crowley questioned. 

“Because one of the books there is going to be the original copy of Dante’s Inferno. The handwritten first draft. This will probably the most exclusive item on the market for the next decade.” Aziraphale gushed. They walked down the concrete stairs, and a gust of particularly cold wind caught Crowley’s nose. 

He could spot rain clouds off in the distance, which explained the unusual temperature. The summer weather in England may as well have been fall weather when it rained. 

“That sounds important.” Crowley agreed. “Dante’s inferno was honestly amazing propaganda for Hell. The lustful just get swept around by a mildly irritating gust of wind without genitals? Made a lot of people feel like fucking was worth it.”

Aziraphale turned, and gave him a stern look. “You know that consensual sex isn’t a sin.” 

“I dunno.” Crowley responded, honestly. “I know it’s not a sin if two people are in love, but my side tends to be purposefully vague about the rest of it. All I know is that temptation is temptation, and anything that makes people give in is a win for us.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, opening the passenger side of the Bently and climbing in. Crowley walked around to the driver’s side and slipped inside as well. 

“Drive us to the convention center.” Aziraphale requested. 

“Yes, sir.” Crowley said, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

The drive was short, and Aziraphale was silent for most of it, contemplatively glancing out the window as he presumably thought about his books. Crowley’s heart warmed ever so slightly at his angel’s excitement. 

They arrived at the convention center half an hour before the event was to start, and there was already a line of people outside that looked... just _ insufferable _ . Crowley tried to remind himself that Aziraphale was  _ one of those _ insufferable people, but failed. One of them was wearing a pair of sunglasses  _ over his regular glasses _ . And just how was Crowley supposed to tolerate all of this tweed in one day?

“They’re not the most fashionable lot, are they?” Crowley questioned. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, stepping out of the car and brushing some lint from his shirt before turning around, waiting for Crowley.

He huffed a sigh before exiting the Bently. 

They walked to the back of the line, Aziraphale bouncing up and down as he waited to see the books. 

On their way there, a man with a partially balding head stepped out of line. He had round glasses and a rounder face, with a light pink blush signifying that he really should have brought a jacket. He grinned, showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. 

“Aziraphale!” He exclaimed, holding out his arms for a hug. Aziraphale glanced sheepishly between him and Crowley before stepping forward. Crowley’s eyebrows crinkled together as he squeezed Aziraphale.

It wasn’t… It wasn’t exactly  _ jealousy _ that Crowley was feeling. Confusion, though? There was plenty of that to go around. 

“George, really.” Aziraphale said, “You have really aged, haven’t you?”

“Well, of course!” He said, “We haven’t seen each other in ten years. I’d bloody well hope that I’d have aged since then!” George let out a booming laugh. When he stopped, he seemed to take notice of Crowley for the first time. “Who’s this bloke? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“George, this is… This is Crowley.” Aziraphale said, taking a small step away. George stuck out his hand for Crowley to shake, and Crowley remembered that he was supposed to be on good behavior right now. “Crowley, George is an anthropological studies professor with a specialization in human sexuality.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot upwards. Okay, now he was a little bit intrigued. 

“Pleased to meet you.” Crowley responded. George looked back and forth both ways, as if he was checking to make sure that nobody was listening to them. 

“If you two would  _ like _ to step back into line with me, I’m pretty sure none of these stuffy academics would care enough to make a scene of it.”

Aziraphale and Crowley glanced at each other. Crowley shrugged; he didn’t really care how fast they got into this place. Aziraphale stepped forward, his decision made. Internally, Crowley’s heart skipped a beat; it always did whenever Zira broke the rules. 

“So what treasures bring you here, Aziraphale?” George asked. Zira smirked. 

“I’m assuming the same ones that you’re pursuing?” 

George threw back his head and laughed, like it was some sort of private joke between them. When he had finally finished, he said, “Probably not this time. I  _ am _ interested in the ancient treatise on self-flagellation they have on display, but the university’s budget simply doesn’t allow for that sort of purchase this year. Lord only knows I don’t make enough money to buy it myself. No, I’m here picking something up for a friend.”

Crowley blinked. “Excuse me. Self flagellation?”

“Oh, it’s when-”

“He knows what it is, George.” Aziraphale interrupted, grinning. “He doesn’t realize how it pertains to your field.”

“Oh, alright.” George amended, “This particular treatise described not only the spiritual effects of self flagellation, but the sexual effects it had on some of the practicing monks. With the censorship of the time and the social connection to holiness, it’s very difficult to find people who  _ admitted _ that they were kinky bastards for doing it.”

“That’s one of the books that I’m interested in.” Aziraphale informed Crowley. Crowley nodded.

“I can see why. Are the other ones this… Interesting?”

“Definitely not to you.” Aziraphale teased. “Just some early translations of Beowulf and the Iliad, a series of letters that was supposedly from the battle of troy.”

“Aaah, yes. Battle of troy.” Crowley could remember that Helen like it was yesterday. She was a very pretty girl, and he had posed as a handmaiden for her for quite some time. A couple of years, perhaps. Her personality was… Not the best. She was a little bit spoiled by a lot of family that was all enamored with her. 

A beautiful girl, but not worth starting a  _ war _ over. 

The line began to move, and their little group took a step forward. Aziraphale and George were talking excitedly in hushed voices, which gave Crowley the chance to zone out and watch the dumb pigeons walk around on the sidewalk. 

One of them fell over. He laughed. 

Soon enough, they were in the convention center. Aziraphale and George were waving goodbye, and Crowley was left to watch him go. Just under his skin, a curiosity burned. 

The look Aziraphale had given him when they’d first spotted him… The hushed personal conversations… George’s chosen field of study being of particular interest to Aziraphale… It was all coming together and Crowley had to wonder whether or not the picture it painted was one he should be concerned about.

He decided to ask, before it drove him crazy. 

“So you and that George guy,” He said, casually. “Were you two ever…?”

Crowley trailed off, his feet stopping as he became absorbed in the thought. Aziraphale stopped walking to turn towards Crowley, confusion written on his face. “Were we ever what?”

“Y’know. A thing.” Crowley elaborated. “Because you two just… seemed to have a bit of a history.”

“Not every history is a romantic or sexual one.” Aziraphale reminded him. 

“You’re right. Forget I asked.” Crowley said, putting his hands up. Aziraphale kept looking at him, and his expression morphed into one of realization. 

“Were you asking because  _ you _ might be interested in George?” Aziraphale questioned. 

Oh, shit. Crowley  _ hadn’t _ kept the jealousy out of his voice as much as he thought he had. He really didn’t mind! What was in the past was in the past! But he still couldn’t help but feel just a little envious of the people who got to have all of Aziraphale before he did. 

He had to respond. He was backed into a corner, and his only solution was to lie. 

“You caught me.” He said, smoothly. “Not terribly interested, of course. Just wondering whether or not we might have a couple of drinks and a conversation about his… field of study.”

“Of  _ course _ you would be interested in the study of human sexuality.” Aziraphale said, “But whenever I bring up Chauncer’s early work, it’s “terribly dull” and “things that happened that far in the past aren’t relevant anymore” and “you like to live in the present”. Really, Crowley, you are a frustrating entity.”

Aziraphale was teasing, but there was something behind that. Crowley could tell that there was something off about his tone, but he had no idea what. 

“I would argue that human sexuality is more than just history.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale sighed, but nodded in agreement. 

Suddenly, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand, pulling them off to one side. He made a steady beeline for one of the booths, changing the subject. 

“Oooh, Crowley, you  _ have _ to see the paintings this woman does.” He gushed, “They’re all inspired by classical literature, and she’s been doing them for  _ decades _ .”

Crowley allowed himself to be pulled along, melting at the feeling of Aziraphale’s warm hand gripping his. His heart swelled with affection as Aziraphale showed Crowley the things that he was passionate about; the fact that he trusted Crowley with this was absolutely touching. He could let himself be pulled around behind Aziraphale for hours, even if only to see the look of pure excitement on Aziraphale’s face as he spotted different things he liked. 

And Crowley had a feeling that that was exactly what was going to happen. 

~~~ 

Aziraphale got hungry at two-thirty, and decided that they should grab some coffee and pastries. 

His day with Crowley had been going rather smoothly up until that point. He had gotten two of the books he had come for, and an additional ancient text on demons and angels for Anathema. Over all, Aziraphale was having fun. 

He dragged Crowley to the back of the coffee line, and they waited patiently while the baristas worked furiously to keep up with the demand. 

A couple of minutes into the wait, Aziraphale felt eyes on him. He turned around, scanning the crowd. George appeared from the sea, waving as he walked towards them. 

Aziraphale felt deeply uncomfortable as he came to stand behind him and Crowley. Crowley turned, giving him a tight little wave. George smiled at the demon, and Aziraphale’s throat suddenly felt too tight. 

“You two having a good time?” George questioned, grinning. Aziraphale nodded, trying to force himself to focus on the conversation. Or on the smell of coffee wafting around them. Or on the ambient music. The glare of the lights against the plastic tables. Literally anything other than the insecurity he felt when a man Crowley was attracted to was standing three feet in front of him. 

He’d been trying to win over the demon for  _ centuries _ , and George had done it in mere minutes. 

“We’re doing just splendid.” Aziraphale responded. “What about you? Successful in getting those English books?”

George held them up, grinning triumphantly. 

“Yup! These very ones. She’s going to owe me big time.”

Aziraphale felt a hand lightly touch his back, and he looked towards Crowley. Crowley’s voice was gentle as he said, “The line’s moving, Angel.”

Aziraphale got the satisfaction of watching as confusion, realization, and acceptance flickered across George’s face as he drew the wrong conclusion. He had never before been more grateful for Crowley’s lovely little pet names. 

He walked forward, and Crowley’s hand didn’t leave his back. Aziraphale felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Whatever it was they had, Crowley was certainly putting it on display. While Aziraphale was relatively certain it was an accident, it  _ was _ a deterrent to keep George from getting the right idea about Crowley’s feelings towards him.

Aziraphale felt a warmth steadily growing in him, becoming stronger every moment that Crowley kept his hand on his back. His skin prickled, goosebumps raising along his flesh.

But it didn’t stop at his physical body. The feather-light tingles moved up his spine from where Crowley’s hand rested, resonating deep in his bones. It went through his shoulders and tingled up through his wings, which took  _ very kindly _ to the odd display. 

They tried to force themselves into the physical plane. 

Aziraphale was barely able to stop them, his muscles tensing and his brow furrowing in panicked concentration as he tried to put them back in their place.

Angels’ wings had long ago been part of an elaborate mating display; they were used in order to show interest to another angel, and to ward off any unwanted outside attention. He supposed that with Crowley’s hand on his back serving as a signal to George, his wings might have gotten the wrong idea. 

He forced them back down into the astral plane, but they bucked up against his will.

Aziraphale glanced around at the robust crowd, panic welling up inside of him. He couldn’t lose control of his corporeal form now, not in front of all of these people! Not with the  _ press coverage _ that this was getting. He could see  _ three cameras _ just from where he was standing. 

Three different angles of video footage of a man materializing wings in the middle of a coffee shop.

It took Aziraphale a couple of seconds to realize that someone was talking to him. 

“-you okay?” George questioned. Aziraphale shook his head, clearing it. 

He wanted to say ‘yes’, but there was a particularly insistent pressure behind his shoulder blades, and he knew he couldn’t stay there much longer. 

“Actually,” He said, glancing towards a very concerned Crowley, “I just realized that I had some work to do on a… Personal project. The deadline for it was today. Silly me!” He exclaimed, forcing a laugh. “I think we’d better head home and finish it. I have the texts I was most concerned with, anyways.”

George eyed him carefully, and Aziraphale offered a tight smile. 

“Alright,” He said. Aziraphale stepped out of line, grabbing Crowley’s hand and tugging him along. George’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, confusion lighting up his face as he tried to grapple with the situation. He knew how much Aziraphale loved food, and seeing him get out of line someplace must have been shattering George’s perception of reality. “You aren’t even going to get your pastry?”

“No time, I’m afraid!” Aziraphale announced, hurriedly. He plowed forward, weaving through the crowd and away from the coffee shop. He threw one last glance over his shoulder as he moved, shouting, “I’ll email you!”

It didn’t take long for Crowley to catch onto the fact that something was wrong. As Aziraphale weaved them throughout the crowd, he leaned forward, his voice hushed. 

“Is everything alright, Angel?” He questioned, urgently. Hearing the nickname again sent another  _ intense _ wave of tingles through his wings, and Aziraphale had to physically stop walking so he could  _ force _ them to stay in the astral plane. His shoulders were shaking, and his breath was coming quicker than usual. 

“We need to get home.” He said, simply. “I’ll explain there.”

Crowley, seeing that Aziraphale was struggling, took the lead from there. He laced his hand with the angel’s and Aziraphale’s heart gave a squeeze as Crowley carefully navigated the crowd, leading him safely through the sea of academics and to the other side. 

Aziraphale hoped fervently that once they were alone the display instinct would leave, and he could come up with some sort of convenient excuse as to avoid the embarassment of telling Crowley. But he had the sneaking suspicion that his wings were going to come out now whether he liked it or not. 

They exited through the side of the building, and Crowley rushed to get them around to the parking lot. It was a fair walk for the two of them; Crowley had unfortunately parked the bentley  _ legally _ . Of course, the  _ one time _ Aziraphale would really need Crowley to be reckless, he would decide to abide by traffic laws. 

It felt like forever until they reached the car. Aziraphale knew logically that he was being dramatic, but holding in his wings was becoming quite painful as they became more and more insistent, tugging at the muscles in his shoulder to the point that Aziraphale wondered whether or not they were going to end up damaging his physical body in the process. 

Crowley opened the door of the Bently, and Aziraphale practically flung himself inside. He placed his books tenderly in the back seat, and watched Crowley walk around the car. As soon as he was in, he turned a worried eye towards Aziraphale. “Zira?”

“Please just drive.” Aziraphale requested, his face burning hot. His wings were  _ going _ to come out, and he was  _ going _ to have to explain himself. His only real hope would be that Crowley wouldn’t  _ know _ what it meant, and he could make up some lame excuse about social anxiety triggering his powers.

But Aziraphale knew that that was a long shot. Demons likely behaved the same way. They did, after all, still have their wings. 

“Okay,” Crowley agreed, leaving it along. He started up the car. 

Aziraphale felt the bentley rumble to life, and he turned his full concentration towards keeping his wings concealed. He could feel a burning pressure building and building, just underneath his shoulder blades. Every time his shoulders tensed with the concentration of keeping his wings concealed, it became more insistent.

The ride home took a third of the time that it should have, and as soon as they were parked Crowley was running around to his side of the car and pulling the door open. He offered Aziraphale his hand, and Aziraphale unthinkingly took it. The pressure flared and he let out a tight hiss of pain, his shoulders  _ trembling _ with the effort it took to keep his wings concealed. 

He pulled his hand away from Crowley’s like it had burned him. He saw a look of hurt flicker across the demon’s face, but Crowley stepped aside as Aziraphale charged towards the house. 

Fuck, he wasn’t going to make it. His shoulders were tensed and the pain was hot in his muscles and Crowley was  _ right there _ , helping him, making the situation even worse, and-

He made it to the front door of Crowley’s flat, and practically threw himself inside, relief flooding him once he was finally away from the prying eyes of humans. Crowley was only a step behind him, and he shut the door. Aziraphale could hear the confusion and concern in his voice as he asked, “Angel, what the hell is going on? Please, I’m worried-”

Aziraphale’s willpower caved at that exact moment. 

His wings were ripped from the Astral and became real, filling the space up for seven feet on either side of him as a spray of feathers took to the air. A stray feather floated down and landed on a  _ very _ confused Crowley’s head. 

“Um.” Crowley said, blinking. “...Was…  _ this _ … the problem?”

Aziraphale could feel that his face was red hot as he nodded. He could tell from Crowley’s absolute confusion that he knew exactly what this display meant, and Aziraphale had to come up with an excuse  _ quickly _ . 

“It seems,” Aziraphale started, wracking his head for any excuse. He settled on a half-truth, and hoped that Crowley would accept it. “That since we’ve been pleasuring each other, my…. My body seems to think that we’re  _ mated _ . And took it as a  _ display _ that you called me angel in front of George, especially since he clearly… Misinterpreted the meaning.”

Crowley blinked at him. 

It took three seconds before the room was suddenly full of black feathers, too. 

Crowley gave a  _ yelp _ of surprise, jumping as he lifted his own wings, peering at them. He turned sheepishly towards Aziraphale.

“I… Guess the feeling is mutual?” He teased. Aziraphale felt a warmth spread in his chest. Crowley’s wings were displayed for him. 

But, looking at Crowley’s wings well-manicured, he also remembered to be embarrassed. 

“Oh, Dear,” He observed, turning to glance at his off-white wings. Streaks of grey ran through some of his feathers, none of which seemed to be in place. Crowley’s wings weren’t exactly immaculate, but Aziraphale’s were undoubtedly worse. “It’s been too long since I’ve groomed these blasted things.”

“I could help!” Crowley blurted. Aziraphale’s wings pulled tighter around his body, self-consciously. He tried to ignore how much he  _ wanted _ that. 

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask that of you.” Aziraphale said. 

“I insist.” Crowley continued. “Besides, isn’t that the kind of thing we’ll need to do to get this to calm down, anyways? Some sort of  _ display of affection _ should do nicely to… assuage our instincts.”

Aziraphale thought. 

Technically, they were both free to shove their wings back in their rightful places now. The display had been made, and answered. But Crowley was right. He could feel that if he put them back now, they wouldn’t be satisfied. His wings tingled with the urge to be touched, caressed… The thought of Crowley grooming him sent a shiver up his spine. 

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He mused. His wings, ignoring his nonchalance, gave a happy little shimmy at the news. Crowley smiled. “And I’d be happy to return the favor, if you’ll allow me.”

“Of course.” Crowley agreed. -*

Aziraphale pulled his wings closer to his body as Crowley moved towards the hallway. Crowley squeezed past, headed towards his larger bathroom. Aziraphale’s eyebrows pulled together. Crowley  _ never _ used that one; why was he heading there now?

“Dear?” Aziraphale questioned. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Running a bath!” Crowley responded. Aziraphale heard the unmistakable sound of water rushing as Crowley turned on his jacuzzi. “It’s good for the joints, and it’s a helluva lot easier to groom your wings when they’re relaxed.”

Aziraphale blinked. 

“I… Suppose so.” He said. He wasn’t sure whether or not Crowley had heard it over the sound of rushing water, but it didn’t seem to matter either way. 

Crowley was soon grabbing things from his small hall closet; towels, shampoo, what looked suspiciously like bubble bath. Aziraphale found himself drawn to the room, as embarrassed as he was. He wanted to see Crowley work. 

As Aziraphale’s self control crumbled, he got closer and closer to the master bath. Finally, he was standing in the doorway, watching as Crowley checked the temperature of the water on the inside of his wrist. Aziraphale slowly stepped into the bathroom, glancing around at the pure white tiles and the golden ornamentations. He could see why Crowley preferred not to use this room. The rest of the house was certainly ostentatious, but this was a little gaudy even by the demon’s standards. 

Crowley turned the bubble bath upside-down, letting a few tablespoons fall into the water by the faucet. He grabbed another bottle and repeated the process. Aziraphale’s eyes widened as the sharp smell of roses permeated the room. 

“Rose oil.” Crowley informed him. 

Aziraphale jumped. He hadn’t realized that Crowley knew he was there yet. 

“Rose oil?” Aziraphale asked. 

“It’s good for the feathers. Makes them shiny. Not sure whether or not it would be a good idea on real birds, but it’s always worked miracles for me.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Definitely not recommended for real birds.” He agreed. 

It didn’t take long until Crowley was shutting off the water, and turning towards Aziraphale. “Well? Are you going to just stand there?”

Aziraphale hesitated. “You want me to… Take off my clothes?” 

Crowley blinked. 

“I mean, only if you want to? But I, for one, think you’ve seen me naked enough that it doesn’t matter anymore.” He said. Aziraphale nodded, and reached down to pull his sweater over his head. There was an odd feeling as the fabric phased through his wings, which settled back down into their natural state quickly enough. 

Aziraphale unbuttoned his pants, but he didn’t quite slip them down yet. His eyes narrowed as he looked towards Crowley, who hadn’t yet begun to disrobe himself. 

“Aren’t you joining me?” He asked. “You said I would be allowed to repay the favor, and the bath is plenty big enough for the two of us.”

This was  _ not _ going to be like one of those times Crowley took care of Aziraphale and wormed his way out of Aziraphale returning it. If he was going to let Crowley  _ groom his wings _ , one of the highest acts of intimacy available to them, then he was going to return the favor. 

Crowley sighed, and Aziraphale could tell that worming his way out of reciprocation had been  _ exactly _ his intention. “Alright. I’ll join. I s’pose there’s less water waste that way, anyways.”

Aziraphale smirked triumphantly as Crowley undid the buttons on his blazer. Aziraphale pulled down his bottoms, stepping out of them and onto the cool tile. He balanced on one foot at a time as he slipped off his socks, leaving himself completely exposed. 

Crowley had gotten rid of his shirt, and was standing facing the tub. Aziraphale allowed himself to look, his eyes wandering over Crowley’s magnificent, midnight-black feathers. Thin muscle shifted just under the surface of his skin, and Aziraphale couldn’t wait to massage away the tension he could see sitting between Crowley’s shoulder blades. 

Crowley must have felt his stare, because he turned. 

Aziraphale looked away sharply, and pretended not to notice the smile in Crowley’s voice. 

“Go on, get in. No sense in delaying it.”

Aziraphale moved, keeping his eyes carefully on the bathwater as Crowley finished undressing. Aziraphale put one leg over, testing the water carefully with his toes. Finding it an adequate temperature, he climbed in quickly, letting the warm water engulf him. 

He dipped his wings down, and found that Crowley was right. The bathwater made his sore muscles relax, and he could feel the grime being pulled loose from his feathers. 

Aziraphale felt a small rise in the water level as Crowley climbed in.Their legs brushed, and Aziraphale felt Crowley’s wing gently caress his own. He hissed at the foreign contact, surprised at how  _ sensitive _ his wings were to that kind of touch. 

Crowley spoke, and Aziraphale finally allowed himself to look. 

“Have you ever… Done this before?”

“The involuntary display, or the grooming?” Aziraphale asked. He hoped that Crowley was referring to the grooming. 

“Either.” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale tried to look him in the eyes, but Crowley had gotten into the  _ bathtub _ with those damn sunglasses on. Aziraphale reached up, annoyance clear as he grabbed Crowley’s sunglasses. He was sure to be gentle as he removed them, and he found Crowley’s eyes to be a deep, beautiful yellow underneath. 

Crowley shot a panicked look at his glasses as Aziraphale set them on the side of the tub, but mercifully didn’t try to place them back on. Aziraphale realized that he still had to answer the question. 

“No,” He said, softly. “To both. I’ve never felt the urge to make a mating display. Nobody else has ever touched my wings.”

A thousand different emotions flickered across Crowley’s face as he processed the information. Aziraphale waited with breathless anticipation for him to settle on one, but once Crowley had processed it, his face was set into a cool mask. 

“Well then,” He teased, “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Crowley’s hand touched his shoulder, gently. 

“I think this will work better if you sit in front of me.” Crowley informed him. Aziraphale’s eyes flickered back and forth between Crowley’s hand and his eyes, still trying to read him. 

Usually, without his glasses on, Crowley was an open book. He wasn’t good at hiding his feelings. The demon felt  _ a lot _ . But now? Crowley was guarding himself with a suspicious amount of precision. Aziraphale burned with curiosity as nerves fluttered around his stomach. 

“Alright then.” Aziraphale agreed, shifting through the water. Crowley moved forward, pressing his chest against Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale felt himself relax, and he prepared himself for those long, nimble fingers to stroke through his feathers. 

“Tell me to stop if this makes you uncomfortable.” Crowley said, his soft voice honey in Aziraphale’s ears. Aziraphale nodded, his wings flicking impatiently outwards, splaying wide in anticipation of Crowley’s touch. 

Aziraphale felt the demon hovering over his right wing, and he shifted it backwards. Crowley drew in a sharp breath (or maybe it  _ wasn’t _ Crowley) and slowly sunk his fingers around the feathers, pulling down gently. 

Pure, physical  _ pleasure  _ shot up Aziraphale’s spine. He knew he made a noise, but he had no idea how undignified it was; he assumed that the answer was ‘very’. The pleasure radiating through his shoulder blades and coming to swirl in his lower belly was  _ intense _ , overstimulating… One of the best things he’d ever felt, if he was being honest. 

Crowley’s hand slipped out the bottom of his feathers, and Aziraphale found himself already trembling with want. His cock was half-hard in the water. 

The lack of simulation when Crowley pulled away gave him some time to breathe, cleared the fog of pleasure enough for confusion and wonder to work their way in. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, leaning back against his partner, “I had no idea that it would feel like that.”

Crowley’s head peered over Aziraphale’s shoulder, and Aziraphale could feel those warm eyes rake down his body, stopping pointedly at Aziraphale’s hardness. When Crowley spoke, there was surprise in his voice. 

“Neither did I.” He said, “I knew it would be intimate, but not  _ this  _ bloody intimate. Why the hell didn’t anyone  _ tell us _ our wings are engorgeous zones?”

“Wait,” Aziraphale said, eyes widening. The sound of water parting accompanied his sudden turn, his body scooting away briefly so he could look back at Crowley, “You’ve never done this with anyone else?”

“Well neither have you!” Crowley argued, his face burning red. Aziraphale realized rapidly that his comment had been taken rather the wrong way, and he scrambled to fix it. 

“Oh, no! That’s not a bad thing, Crowley, I simply didn’t expect it! It’s… Kind of nice for us to have this new experience together, in fact.” Aziraphale said. Crowley looked at him blankly for a few moments before giving way to relief. 

“Okay, okay.” He sighed. He reached forward, grabbing Aziraphale’s shoulder and giving an insistent tug. “Lean back, we’ve only just begun.”

“Alright, alright.” Aziraphale half-heartedly complained. His wings were buzzing- no,  _ singing _ , with anticipation.

Crowley started with the feathers closest to his back. The pleasure radiated down through Aziraphale at every touch; he felt like a live wire as Crowley’s long, slim fingers dragged through his wings. His feathers fell back into their rightful places, and his wings were soaking up the rose oil in the water with  _ lovely _ results. 

Crowley moved further out and leaned, his hands ever so gentle as they explored one of Aziraphale’s most sensitive parts. Aziraphale’s wings shook of their own accord, as his brain lost full functioning capabilities. It was all he could do to keep himself still.

Crowley’s fingers were so soft, yet so  _ insistent _ . Aziraphale’s cock  _ throbbed _ as the pleasure radiating through his shoulders pooled in his groin, and he couldn’t stop the breathy moan that forced its way between his lips. He was leaning on Crowley for support now, his joints trembling, feathers shaking. 

“Do you like that?” Crowley questioned, although Aziraphale could tell that it was quite rhetorical. 

Aziraphale gave a startled noise as Crowley’s hands suddenly picked up speed, sinking deeper, just a little rougher against his feathers. He was pulsing, pushing back against Crowley. He could feel Crowley half-hard against him, and it just made his own situation  _ worse _ . 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale panted, “As wonderful as this is, I’m going to cum if you continue.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Crowley asked, innocently. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat as another wave of pleasure shot through him, Crowley’s hands buried deep in his wings. Crowley seemed to be making it his job to personally touch every inch of Aziraphale’s feathers. 

“No!” Aziraphale exclaimed. He felt pleasure pooling in his stomach, and his hand twitched. He wanted to be touched  _ so badly _ , but he knew that if he tried, Crowley would take over. If Crowley took over, that would mean one less hand carding through his wings so  _ sinfully _ , and Aziraphale would rather remain aching and untouched. 

“You know,” Crowley said quietly, massaging some of Aziraphale’s longer flight feathers with light circular motions, “You make some very pretty noises, Angel.”

“Can’t help it,” Aziraphale informed him, his body tensing as Crowley pulled his hands out, and started at another, more sensitive point, up near his joint. “Y-You seem very skilled.”

“I’ve noticed where I’m sensitive from grooming myself.” Crowley reminded him. Aziraphale was suddenly very grateful for Crowley’s intricate cleanliness rituals; all Aziraphale ever did was clean himself as fast as possible and then continue with his day. He wouldn’t have any idea what to do if he were in Crowley’s position. 

Crowley’s hands neared the middle of his wings and Crowley leaned down, pressing warm little kisses along Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale moaned, remembering what that mouth felt like on him. The lewd thought sent another, more urgent surge of pleasure towards his center, and his hips bucked of their own accord. 

“You can let go, Angel.” Crowley reminded him. “No judgement here.” 

A certain prideful part of Aziraphale wanted to hold it back, just to show Crowley that he  _ could _ . And he  _ wanted _ to, Crowley’s hands felt marvelous carding through his feathers like that. Aziraphale could have gladly let it go on for hours. 

But his wings were so damn sensitive, and Crowley’s hands were so insistent, and knowing that Crowley  _ wanted _ him to cum, wouldn’t stop until he did, well… 

Aziraphale came with a cry, sharp pleasure shooting through him in short bursts as it hit his chest. Crowley’s hands in his wings milked him through it, until Aziraphale was shaking with overstimulation and his wings were folding back in on themselves, more than satisfied. 

Aziraphale turned, his wings spreading out behind him, and practically threw himself into Crowley’s arms. 

He knew that this was a bad idea as soon as he had done it. Crowley’s eyes widened as he gazed down at Aziraphale, his wings acting of their own accord to wrap around his mate. Aziraphale sighed at the feather-light touches against his skin, against his own still-sensitive wings. He knew he would curse himself for going too far, for making his affections too  _ obvious _ , but that was then and this was now and he wanted to be  _ held _ , damn it. 

“That was wonderful.” He breathed. “Thank you.”

“Er,” Crowley said, “You’re… Welcome?”

Aziraphale looked up at his demon, allowing the affection that one should  _ naturally _ feel at the end of a mating display to wash over him. Now, all he wanted to do was make Crowley feel the same way. 

He spared a small miracle and cleaned the bath water of the dirt from his wings and the, er… Physical manifestation of his affection for Crowley . 

“Are you ready for your turn?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley hesitated, and Aziraphale unleashed the full power of his puppy dog eyes. Crowley’s brows pulled together and his lip twitched upwards into a look of conflict before resignation replaced it. 

“I suppose I did promise.” Crowley sighed. Aziraphale grinned. 

“If you really don’t like it, we can stop immediately.” Aziraphale informed him, nuzzling into his neck to place a soft kiss against Crowley’s skin. He was reminded of Crowley’s arousal when it twitched against his leg. “And I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy yourself.”

“Whatever you say, Angel.”

Crowley attempted to look blase, refusing to look Aziraphale in the eyes as he spread his wings out. Aziraphale missed the feeling of those sleek feathers against his skin, but he didn’t dare complain. Not when Crowley had just spread himself out like a buffet. 

Experimentally, Aziraphale reached out to touch Crowley’s left wing. He ran a finger down one of Crowley’s shorter feathers, carefully watching the demon’s expression. He couldn’t help but notice how soft and sleek Crowley’s wings were. They were like a work of  _ art _ . 

“These are so  _ beautiful _ ,” Aziraphale informed him, briefly forgetting himself as he turned to look at the wings. He started at the top, his skin itching for the touch as he gently pushed his hand through Crowley’s outer feathers and into the thicker, downy inside. 

Crowley made a noise that he clearly tried to suppress, his head falling back as his wings spread out automatically, giving Aziraphale more room to work. Aziraphale did not miss the effect that his praise had on the demon, and his eyes flickered back and forth between Crowley’s face and his wings as Aziraphale’s mind worked a million miles a minute, the puzzle pieces clicking together. 

Oh. Crowley  _ really _ had a praise kink. 

Aziraphale had supposed this might be the case before, but the elation on Crowley’s face, the  _ satisfaction _ , was undeniably more than physical. 

Aziraphale shifted, carefully leaning over Crowley as he reached out to either side of him, both of his hands digging their fingers into Crowley’s wings. He looked at Crowley, and waited until the demon had shifted those yellow eyes up towards him to make any move. 

Aziraphale smirked. 

“Crowley, your wings are the  _ softest- _ ” He punctuated it by dragging his fingers through Crowley’s feathers, “things I’ve ever felt. Your feathers are so sleek. You’re like a work of  _ art _ .”. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley groaned, his voice sounding  _ wrecked _ , “You don’t have to say things like that.”

Aziraphale was  _ immediately _ offended that Crowley couldn’t tell he was sincere. 

“Now Crowley,” Aziraphale scolded, his fingers slipping through the very bottom of Crowley’s wings. He raised them back, starting again at the top. “Don’t tell me you think I’m lying. We both know I don’t make a habit of that. Your wings are so well-cared-for, you see. Your feathers are soft and silky. And black really is a fetching color on you. They’re magnificent, you see. Just like you.”

Crowley made a noise that was somewhere between actual speech and garbled nonsense, but Aziraphale still got the gist. He looked down to find yellow eyes alight with passion, searching out his own. 

Aziraphale took note when Crowley shifted, pressing his erection up against the angel’s thigh. 

“‘S this okay?” Crowley questioned. 

“Please do.” Aziraphale enthused, and his next pass through Crowley’s wings was a little rougher. He let his fingers tug at the small feathers, and Crowley shuddered, his hips bucking at the sharp, curling pleasure that Aziraphale knew that he was feeling. Aziraphale moved a little further away again, his arms spreading as far as they could go as he attempted to caress as much of Crowley’s wings as he possibly could. 

“Angel,” Crowley groaned, his hips picking up pace. 

“You can cum.” Aziraphale informed him, answering a question he wasn’t sure Crowley even realized that he was asking. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

“Azira _ phale _ -” Crowley hissed, but that was all he could get out. He was cumming, his face contorted in  _ divine _ pleasure. Aziraphale worked him through it, his hands in Crowley’s feathers. 

Crowley’s wings were trembling with sensitivity, so Aziraphale simply put a couple of his feathers in their proper place and withdrew, sitting back against Crowley’s thighs. He hummed, a happy contentedness sitting heavy on his chest like the  _ best _ weighted blanket. 

“You were absolutely divine, Dear.” He informed Crowley, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Crowley’s wings instinctively moved around them again, creating a small shelter for him and Aziraphale. The darkness blocked out almost all the light in the room, and Crowley’s yellow eyes almost glowed. 

“You were  _ wonderful _ , Aziraphale.” He informed him. Aziraphale felt a rush of pleasure himself at Crowley’s attention, and he melted. 

It was clear that neither of them were ready to leave the relaxation of the water just yet. Their wings still needed a  _ real _ , thorough cleaning (the tips of either of their wings had been out of reach during their…  _ activities _ ) and the intimacy of the moment was not yet ready to dissipate. 

Crowley raised a hand and snapped his fingers, miracling the water clean again. Aziraphale was grateful as he realized that Crowley had also added in making the water the perfect temperature, restoring the heat that they had lost while they were...erm. Grooming. 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale sighed. His hands came to rest delicately on Crowley’s shoulders, and he leaned forward. In the shade of Crowley’s wings, he pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. 

He knew that Crowley didn’t feel the same way that he did, and the thought sent a little pang of longing through his chest. He quickly chased it away, not wanting  _ anything _ to spoil this moment. 

Because that didn’t matter right now. 

What mattered was that him and Crowley were sitting in a bathtub, in each other’s embrace, skin pressing against skin, and this was the happiest Aziraphale had ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's a link to the other fic I published today](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327699). Bonus link at the bottom of that to the lovely GO roleplay discord server that the idea came from <3
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Welcome to the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written in a fanfiction. I’m very much so into petplay (also a furry-- similar, but no submissive headspace). I feel like it’s widely misunderstood aaaaand thought I would have a lot of fun writing it, so I was eager to work it into this fic. The petplay scene that takes place here is non-sexual. I also put very little plot in this chapter. So if you’d like to skip it, you can!   
> Also quick warning, the way I use ‘sub drop’ as nomenclature isn’t strictly accurate. I personally prefer the term as a generalized negativity you feel after a scene, both emotionally (in terms of guilt, which a LOT of submissives feel) AND physically, from the happy-chemical dump which sometimes makes your brain freak out a little afterwards (which is its intended form). Just wanted to clarify!

Crowley moved his knight, backing Aziraphale’s queen into a tight corner. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, reaching out to move it four paces to the left, narrowly escaping. Crowley immediately ruined it by managing to take Aziraphale’s queen with one of his pawns. 

“Strategy has never been your strong suit.” He informed Aziraphale. The angel’s eyes scanned the board as he pointedly ignored Crowley’s comment. 

His eyes lit up as he realized Crowley had made an error earlier in the game, and he moved his bishop to corner Crowley’s king. “Maybe not, but  _ luck _ always has.”

Crowley groaned, placing his forehead firmly in his hand.  _ Damn _ Aziraphale and his good luck! Crowley had never been able to take that into account when they played games like this. He was always more focussed on the offensive than the defensive, and Aziraphale would stumble into amazing plays by way of Crowley’s folly. 

They both liked to pretend it was luck, and not Crowley sucking at chess even more than he did. 

“Aziraphale-” Crowley began, but found himself cut off by a sharp rap on the door. They glanced at each other, and Aziraphale blinked owlishly. 

“Aziraphale?” Gabriel’s distinctive voice drifted through the door, and both of their eyes widened in shock. Crowley immediately scrambled up, his heart racing in his chest as he sprinted down into the basement as quietly as possible. He threw himself in the chair, a quick glance around the room confirming that anything explicitly sexual had been put away. 

He grabbed the metal charm off of the ropes and hooked it onto the leather cuffs, knowing that he wouldn’t have time for any kind of tie with his lack of practice. 

As he heard the door answered, Crowley was pulling closed leather cuffs closed with his teeth, feeling his power suddenly muffled. The chain that connected them was threaded through the arm of the chair, holding him there. He wished fervently that he had Aziraphale’s skill with knots, so he could have tied his feet beforehand. 

“-Very unhappy, I assure you.”

Aziraphale’s voice drifted down towards him, and Crowley listened intently as he heard a pair of heavy steps descending the stairs. His heart hammered in his chest, and anxiety curled in his stomach. 

Why hadn’t heaven given Aziraphale any kind of warning? Even  _ hell _ had more class than that!

“Yes, well,” Gabriel’s voice drifted down, “I just wanted to see for myself. I want to be able to learn about demon torture from the master.”

“Well, it’s hardly  _ torture _ .” Aziraphale said. The door swung open, and Crowley watched as the panic in his eyes subsided. He looked appreciatively up and down the demon, and turned towards the bible recording. He snapped his fingers, using a small miracle. “I’m just trying to extract information however I can.”

Gabriel frowned. There was a long pause as the bible verses were the only sound in the room. Crowley realized that he was holding his breath, and he shook as he released it. 

“I see.” Gabriel frowned. “Maybe you could… Turn it up a bit? Add a little something? I mean, you haven’t gotten much from him, Aziraphale.”

“Yes, well, you see,” Aziraphale said, slowly, “I’ve studied many torture methods in my time, and the gentle ones actually end up more effective in getting  _ acurate _ information. I could… Hurt him, yes. But the information I would receive would likely be false. Humans have studied this again and again…”

“Sure.” Gabriel said, thankfully seeing the logic in everything Aziraphale had said. “But surely you could spice things up a little. This just seems so…  _ boring _ .”

Crowley almost snorted a laugh, but barely managed to suppress it. Him and Aziraphale had been anything  _ but _ boring lately. 

Aziraphale reflected on this, and gave a small hum. “I suppose.” He snapped his fingers again, and suddenly, there was a radio in the room. An off-beat band flowed through the speakers, a shitty guitar solo and too much bass making it practically shake. “There. I’ve added Christian rock music. I’m supposing that will add a little variety to the torture.”

The guitar gave a completely unnecessary riff, and Crowley had to admit he would have strongly preferred the bible verses. 

“Oooh, that’s a good one. Not even we like that stuff.” Gabriel agreed. He frowned then, looking at Crowley, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if that’s enough, though. He doesn’t seem like he’s having all that unpleasant a time.”

“I could…” Aziraphale made direct eye contact with Crowley, and Crowley knew he was asking for permission. “I could add a little bit of humiliation, maybe?”

Crowley knew he could definitely handled that, and he thought of how he could communicate that to Aziraphale. Well, they  _ were _ using the green-yellow-red method. It couldn’t be too hard to work that in. 

“You seem a little  _ green _ at this, Angel.” Crowley put in, giving his subtle permission. “I would have thought you would have worked this whole torture thing out centuries ago. Is this really such a challenge?”

Aziraphale raised a hand, snapping his fingers again. Crowley blinked. 

He felt something suspiciously heavy on his head, and something pulling at the back of his pants. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening. 

Oh, Aziraphale  _ didn’t _ . 

“See? Humiliating.” He declared, gesturing towards Crowley’s newfound ears and tail.

Crowley tested out movement, finding gratefully that they were fake. Probably the same pair that Aziraphale had had in his little box under the bed. 

Crowley had the good sense to keep his mouth shut then, ignoring how his cheeks burned red.

“Oooh, I like your style.” Gabriel gushed, hitting Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley could tell it had been too hard. He had to physically stop himself from hissing. There was a small, awkward pause where Aziraphale refused to meet Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind much. “Alright, seems like you have everything under control here.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale agreed, giving a tight-lipped smile. 

Gabriel turned to him, his eyes becoming soft. “You know, I really am proud of you, Aziraphale. I thought you’d gone too native, but this latest venture… It really shows your commitment to heaven.”

Crowley held back a loud laugh. The sound that came out instead was more like disgust, which fit the situation infinitely better than any of his  _ usual _ involuntary sounds did. 

“...Yes.” Aziraphale agreed. “Now, if you’d be so kind, I actually had plans for the evening. There’s a documentary on about pottery in the late sixteenth century-”

“Right, right.” Gabriel agreed, putting his hands up. “Sorry to keep you. But if you need any…  _ help _ , in the demon department-” He glanced towards Crowley, a dark look in his eyes, “I’m sure I can help you try out some more traditional methods.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond to that. His face was a neutral mask, but Crowley could see the waves of anger radiating off of him. There were subtle hints, but Crowley was certain that even he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on them if he hadn’t known Aziraphale for as long as he had.

Gabriel waved a sharp goodbye, turning and heading for the door. As his feet hit the steps, Aziraphale leaned out, watching to ensure that he was gone. Aziraphale still hadn’t spoken. Crowley wasn’t sure whether or not he would calm down enough to say anything for  _ awhile _ after Gabriel was gone. 

Seeing the righteous fury barely contained in Aziraphale’s eyes…  _ did something _ to Crowley. 

Aaaand the charm he had taken off of the rope and put onto the leather cuffs kept him from using a demonic miracle to will away his erection. He was already half-hard and fully embarrassed by the time Aziraphale turned back towards him. 

“If he ever laid a hand on you,” Aziraphale said, in a voice that Crowley was going to fantasize about for quite some time, “He would shortly no longer have any hands to lay.”

As much as Crowley was  _ enjoying _ this protective mood his angel had taken on, he was interested in preserving his dignity. He let the silence sit for a moment while Aziraphale walked over, his hands working to undo the cuffs Crowley had put himself in first. Crowley thought it had been an acceptable amount of time, and he decided to change the subject.

“So.” he said, “The ears?”

Aziraphale had the decency to look embarrassed. “They were the first thing that I could think of that you would find mildly embarrassing.”

“...And is that what gets you off about them?” Crowley asked, his eyes narrowing. 

He had, in fact, been wondering this since he had seen them in the beginning. It was one of the reasons Crowley had indicated he was interested in it on the forms; pure curiosity. At first, Crowley had been convinced it was just something that he had done to pleasure one (or more) of his past partners. But that really didn’t explain why Aziraphale had his own set, did it?

Aziraphale’s face burned bright pink. 

“Actually, It’s not so much a…  _ sexual _ fantasy,” He explained, stumbling through his logic as he continued, “It’s more… Emotional? Not that sex isn’t involved, of course. Submission and all, there’s bound to be  _ a _ sexual element. But it’s, um. It’s actually more about the satisfaction of caring for a partner in the way one would care for a pet. Showing someone the kind of limitless, unconditional affection you would show an animal.”

Crowley paused, reflecting on this new information. 

“So, it’s an  _ emotional _ kink?”

“More or less. The headspace that accepting that kind of affection can put the submissive in is  _ most _ conductive to a sexual situation, though. But not every… petplay scene, ends in sex. Or is sexual by nature.”

Crowley blinked.

“And you get off on this? Emotionally speaking?”

He took a little bit of time to respond, carefully choosing his words. Crowley patiently waited. 

Just kidding. 

“Well?” Crowley prompted immediately, curiosity burning. 

“It gives me a great deal of satisfaction.” Aziraphale confirmed. “And I’ve been told that it’s fulfilling on the other end, as well.”

Crowley considered that. 

Well, he supposed he could see the merits in feeling vulnerable, at the mercy of someone who owned you. Definitely. But the additional love and affection, the headspace that Aziraphale talked about? He wasn’t so sure on that one. He didn’t understand how a  _ kink _ could be so… Unsexual?

“I s’pose I just don’t get it.” Crowley responded, frowning. “Not that I don’t want to. Honestly, I’d be curious as hell to try it now,” He admitted, “But I wouldn’t even know how to go about it.”

“You know,” Aziraphale said, carefully, “If you really want to try it, I could act as your owner? It’s actually fairly normal in the petplay community to have a friend act as a temporary caretaker before one is collared. If you’d feel comfortable with that.”

It took him a few seconds to really process what Aziraphale had offered. 

“You’d do that?” He asked, almost breathless at the idea. 

Aziraphale had used such affectionate words when speaking of his role as an owner, and Crowley… Well, Crowley would put on a monkey costume and dance around for bananas if he got to have even the smallest smidgen of that kind of direct, emotional attention from Aziraphale. Whether it was platonic or romantic didn’t really matter.

“Of course I would.” Aziraphale responded. His tone gave away that he was surprised Crowley would even ask. “I see no reason not to. You’re curious, and I’ve heavily enjoyed such activities in the past.”

Crowley nodded. “Sometime soon, then?”

“Whenever you feel like it.” Aziraphale said. Then, after a moment, his face became  _ delighted _ . “Oh, dear! You could be a  _ snake! _ ”

“I can literally transform into a snake.” Crowley agreed. “Is that the angle we’re going with? A literal, actual, scaly snake?”

“You look very  _ handsome _ with scales.” Aziraphale argued. Crowley felt a hot blush creep up his neck.

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever.” Crowley mumbled. Then, remembering what they had originally planned to spend this afternoon doing, he stood. “Let’s get back to me pummeling you at chess, yes?”

“If I win this one, it’ll have to be best five out of nine.” Aziraphale reminded him. Crowley rolled his eyes so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if they jumped out of his skull in protest. 

~~~ 

Two days later, Aziraphale received a package from Amazon. He smiled, accepted the delivery, and sent the postman on his way. Crowley was immediately intrigued. Aziraphale did not often use the internet. 

“What did you get?” Crowley asked, staring intensely at the large box. Aziraphale grinned a small, guilty grin. 

“Well, erm…” Aziraphale started. He sat the box down on the counter and pushed it towards Crowley. “It’s for you, actually. If you’d like to, you can open it.”

Crowley walked over, mildly surprised. Aziraphale wasn’t exactly known for giving presents that weren’t food. This was fairly new. He approached the box with more curiosity than caution, and slit through the flimsy amazon tape with his fingernail. He pulled the box open, and stared at the contents. 

There was a heating pad inside. Like the kind that designated female at birth people used for their period cramps. 

“Erm,” Crowley said, “Thank… You?”

Aziraphale must have thought that his genderfluidity meant Crowley dealt with a monthly cycle. And having a human body meant that if he made an effort to be female at any given time, he technically  _ could _ get a period. But he normally miracled it away before he had to deal with any such symptoms. 

Aziraphale must have sensed that Crowley didn’t see his intentions, because he clarified himself soon after. 

“It’s for when you’re a snake.” He said. “To keep you warm. I figured that whenever we get around to it, this will make a lovely addition to a petplay scene.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, and he looked back and forth between the heating pad and his angel. Oh, he didn’t know what he could have possibly done to deserve this kind of exquisite torture. 

It was absolutely perfect, of course. Which meant that Crowley did  _ not _ feel like he deserved it. Not feeling like he deserved it made him feel ungrateful, which just made everything even  _ worse _ . 

“We don’t have to use it, if you aren’t comfortable?” Aziraphale suggested, slowly. Crowley realized that he’d been off vacationing on self-deprecation island for longer than he’d intended, and snapped back to reality. 

“No!” He said, firmly. “I want to use it! This sounds absolutely heavenly, Angel. How…” Crowley bit his lip, weighing whether or not he really wanted to do this. “How about we use it tonight?”

Aziraphale’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Oh, that sounds lovely! You will be able to speak in snake form, if I remember correctly?”

“Of course.” Crowley confirmed. “I can still hiss in this form, can’t I?”

“I was just making sure that we wouldn’t have to come up with a new way to safeword.” Aziraphale explained.

Crowley reached down to pull out the heating pad, and a small plastic ball with a bell trapped inside rattled around. He looked down, and put two and two together before looking back up at Aziraphale. “You can try all you like, but I will  _ not _ be chasing that ball.”

“We’ll find what works for us personally. It may not be that.” Aziraphale reassured him. Then, he grinned before adding on, “But since you so gracefully gave your permission, I think I will be trying.”

Crowley groaned.

The worst part, though, was that he found himself secretly looking forward to this. 

~~~ 

Crowley felt like a dumbass. 

He blinked up at Aziraphale, who was easily twenty times his size. 

“Sssssso, ah,” He said, “When does this ssstart?”

“Now, if you want it to.” Aziraphale explained. 

“Sure.” Crowley responded. “What am I supposed to be  _ doing _ , exactly?”

“Being a snake.” Aziraphale said, grinning from ear to ear. Crowley waited for some sort of elaboration, certain that Aziraphale actually had some sort of routine he usually followed in these encounters, but he remained dutifully silent.

“How?” Crowley finally asked, frustrated.

“You’re doing a wonderful job of it now.” Aziraphale commented. Crowley rolled his eyes. Which, unfortunately, Aziraphale could fully see. He wished for his sunglasses now more than ever. “Oh, stop that. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.” Crowley hissed. “Which is why I asssssked for clarification!”

Aziraphale paused, considering. “The problem with that is, I can’t really answer that for you. Everyone’s preferences are different in this kind of thing, and you have to figure out how to be a snake in the ways that make  _ you _ happy and comfortable.”

Crowley huffed a sigh. “Alright, fair point.” He thought for a moment. “Is there any way you could make some ssssuggestions? So I’m not starting from nowhere.”

“Well,” Aziraphale looked embarrassed, but plowed forward, “Why don’t we try some light cuddling on the couch? I could put the heating pad on my chest and you could lounge atop it.”

“Yesssss,” Crowley hissed. His scales felt too cold against the kitchen counter. He thought that adding a little bit of heat to the situation would undoubtedly make him feel more comfortable. Maybe then he could brainstorm ways to… enjoy this. Whatever ‘this’ actually was. 

Aziraphale grabbed him, scooping him up delicately and allowing Crowley to curl around over his neck. Crowley, much to his surprise, enjoyed the feeling of being picked up by Aziraphale. He felt… Small. 

Decidedly not in a bad way. 

“What do you say to watching some Cutthroat Kitchen?” Aziraphale recommended, doing his best to make it sound intriguing. He didn’t have to try; Crowley loved cooking shows even  _ more _ now that he’d begun experimenting with them in his own home. 

Aziraphale was a lousy cook. Crowley was  _ trying his hardest _ to learn how to make up for it. 

Crowley hummed in agreement. Aziraphale made his way over to the couch and plopped down, reaching for the heating mat. He switched it on to the lowest setting, and placed it firmly on his chest. He slowly leaned back, giving Crowley time to slither forward and curl up on the heating pad. Crowley closed his eyes and snuggled in as the mild warmth began to radiate from underneath him. 

Aziraphale switched on Cutthroat Kitchen, and Crowley listened idly to the ridiculous challenges given to the contestants as he subtly ssstretched out, feeling more comfortable in his scales. 

Aziraphale’s hand snuck up on him. When his fingers lightly brushed Crowley’s side, he recoiled.

“Sorry!” Aziraphale apologized, immediately. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Was just trying to get a good pet in.”

Crowley blinked up at him. 

“You’re trying to pet me.” He observed. 

“Yes. I rather thought you would enjoy it.”

….Aaaand he bloody well  _ would _ , of course. Aziraphale knew this, and Crowley kind of hated him for it. But he also loved him. And relished the opportunity (though he would sooner cut his own tongue out than to speak the thought out loud) to soak up the affection. “Alright. Go on, if you must.”

Aziraphale responded by bringing his hand in slower, touching it gently down against Crowley’s scales. He ran a finger along the demon’s spine, and Crowley felt himself shiver involuntarily as light, pleasant tingles ran through him. Ooooh, boy. This was  _ good _ . 

Yeah, he could pretend to be a snake like an idiot for sssome of this. 

Aziraphale’s gentle petting persisted through the rest of the episode, and well into the next. Crowley found himself crawling towards Aziraphale, further up his chest, the longer he received the attention. He left the heating pad behind, much preferring the warmth of Aziraphale’s freely given affections. 

He felt a soft, chaste kiss pressed to his head. 

“You really are adorable like this.” Aziraphale informed him. 

Crowley felt a deep sense of embarrassment. Crowley stubbornly reminded him, “I’m dangerousss, too.” 

Aziraphale sighed. 

“You know,” He put in, “Snakes don’t feel shame. Or have a guilt complex that doesn’t allow them to accept compliments. They are snakes.”

Crowley blinked up at him, expecting to come up with some sort of retort. And then, suddenly, the puzzle pieces of this whole  _ thing _ clicked together for him. 

“Oh.” He breathed. If it was possible for his pupils to dilate in this state, he was certain that they would have. 

Aziraphale tried again, pressing another quick kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “You are an exceptional little danger noodle, I must say.”

Crowley still felt a little embarrassed, but he kept his mouth ssshut about it.

Snakes didn’t have a guilt complex. Aziraphale was right about that. If he was going to commit to this role, he shouldn’t, either. 

Aziraphale went through three episodes of television, occasionally petting Crowley along his spine or whispering some sort of sickeningly sweet sweet nothing. All the while, Crowley was encouraging himself to just…. Be a snake. Not be embarrassed by it. Allow himself to have the praise that was being willingly handed to him. 

“You know,” Aziraphale said, “I bet a snake would  _ love _ to slither around in your plant room. Would you like me to take you there?”

“Yesssss,” Crowley resssponded, immediately intrigued by the idea of climbing the trees. Plus, his ability to really get down in the plants would undoubtedly make it easier for him to spot any brown ssspots that might need tending to. 

Aziraphale rose, taking Crowley again into his hands. He walked him out of the living room, the sound of the television fading into the background as they moved further away. He sat Crowley down against the cool tile, and Crowley’s eyes immediately fixated on his favorite little tree. He was curling up and around it before he could even processss what was happening. 

“That was certainly enthusiastic..” Aziraphale commented, looking smug. “Is someone enjoying himself?”

“Sssshut up!” Crowley defended, baring his fangs. Aziraphale knew that it was all show, though. He reached out, and gave Crowley’s nose a firm little boop. Crowley turned away, slithering through the tree and further towards the top, where he would be out of the angel’s reach. 

Aziraphale frowned. 

Crowley remained in his vantage point for a couple of minutes, eyeing Aziraphale intently, wondering what he was planning. Crowley could see that the gears were turning. 

Aziraphale turned and walked out of the room. Crowley ignored his instinct to follow him, instead slithering himself back down his tree and onto the soil below. He moved himself to the nearest thick plant, curling around himself and hiding from Aziraphale. 

If Zira was going to boop his nose like that, then Crowley would damn well make him work to find him when he came back. 

He was… Actually kind of excited for Azsssssiraphale to find him. He curled up in the bush, carefully pulling the last bit of his tail into the shadows. Just as the very tip disappeared into the sssshade, Aziraphale walked back into the room, pausing when he realized that Crowley wasn’t in the tree he had originally left him in. 

Aziraphale sighed, but his mouth betrayed him by twitching into a bemused smile as he separated the branches of the tree, peering into it. Crowley felt a sssssmug sssssatisfaction at knowing that he had managed to befuddle his angel. 

“I hope you know I’ll find you eventually.” Aziraphale said, sternly. “And then, I’m going to kiss your stupid face until you get so embarassed you discorporate.”

Crowley held in another hiss. He felt heat flare along his scales in embarrassment, but he couldn’t help but look  _ forward _ to it.. Those kissssssesssss….. And curling back up on the heating pad while Azsssiraphale said sssweet things, thingsss that he was  _ allowed _ to enjoy. 

Aziraphale methodically checked over two more of his plants, and Crowley noted with a not insubstantial amount of glee that he was actually moving further away from him. After checking the third plant carefully and coming up sssnakeless, Aziraphale walked towards the back of the room, his hand reaching into his pocket. 

It came out holding the small plasssstic ball. Crowley found that his sssnake-brain intensssely focused on it, against his wissshes. 

But he  _ was _ a snake. And he couldn’t help it when his predatory instincts were triggered. 

Because he knew exactly what Aziraphale wanted him to do to that tiny little ball. And Crowley wasn’t certain he was going to be able to sssstop himself. 

Aziraphale leaned down, squatting as he swung his arm back, plastic ball in hand. “Surely, a snake couldn’t be tempted into a game of fetch?”

His hand sssswung forward, and he released the ball. It came flying forward, and Crowley’s eyes narrowed on it as it skittered across the floor. It rolled to a sssstop right in front of him, and he could not control his reaction. 

He struck, his fangs scraping either side of the ball as he held it triumphantly in his mouth. He turned back towards Azssssiraphale, expecting praisssssse.

“Wonderful!” Aziraphale declared, clapping his handssss together. Crowley felt the praise wash over him pleasantly, and his body did a little wiggle behind him. 

“You…” Aziraphale was moving closer to him now, and then Crowley was being swooped up off the floor, and sweet little kissssssessss were being applied to his head, “Are the cutest,” kiss, “Snake,” kiss, “In all of,” kiss, “Creation.”

Crowley felt himself melt. He felt like he could just slither out of his scales right then and there. He could just  _ die _ of happinesssss. 

“Now,” Aziraphale said, placing him back down on the ground, “Would you like to admit that you enjoyed that, and I can throw the ball for you again?”

Crowley dropped the ball in response. He glared up at Aziraphale, angry that he had been called out. Aziraphale came close and picked up the ball, and wasss quickly forgiven when he sent it sprawling back across the floor in the other direction. Crowley darted after it, catching it in the air and turning back around. 

That was so much  _ more fun _ than it ssssshould have been. 

After a fair amount of time letting Aziraphale throw the ball for him, Crowley felt his muscles aching pleasantly and his head begin to droop. The plastic ball was all scratched up from his fangs gently biting against it, and he felt ridiculously relaxed. 

“I think we’re finished here.” Aziraphale said, softness in his voice. He walked over and scooped Crowley up, cradling him in his arms. Crowley felt himself melt, and he snuggled against Aziraphale’s warm chest. Aziraphale noticed, and pressed several small kisses to Crowley’s head in response. 

Crowley’s hiss of protest was soft this time. 

“None of that,” Aziraphale warned, pressing more kisses to Crowley’s scales. Crowley wiggled in embarrassment and joy, which, of course, earned him even  _ more _ affection. “You are a fantastic, wonderful, amazing snake and you  _ will _ let me treat you as such.”

Crowley felt a steady build of emotions as Aziraphale continued to kiss him, saying  _ such _ sweet things.

“You did a wonderful job today.” Kiss. “You have the shiniest scales.” Kiss. “It’s so relaxing to feel your weight against my chest.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. 

The only problem with Crowley’s snake form had always been its inability to hold his emotions. Crowley was an overdramatic bastard by nature, and he always  _ felt _ too much to be in such a small form. The waves of affection and love and  _ longing _ that were washing over him right now were not the exception. It was simply too much for his scales to contain. 

He tried to hold it together, he really did. 

But his snake form didn’t hold. He rapidly elongated, a small cloud of smoke engulfing him as his body was forced back into a traditional human shape. Aziraphale’s arms held steady, although he  _ did _ let out a rather girlish squeak of surprise.

Aziraphale was cradling Crowley bridal style. Crowley was pressed firmly against his chest, blushing like absolute  _ mad _ . 

“Oh, my,” Aziraphale said, eyes wide. “I didn’t do something wrong, did I?”

“NO!” Crowley exclaimed. He didn’t know if it was  _ possible _ for him to blush harder, but if it was, then he did. “No, not at all! It’s just, erm… My emotions? They have the tendency to… Knock me back into my default form, sometimes.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale said. There was a silence that passed between them, and Crowley kept expecting Aziraphale to put him down. Not that he  _ wanted _ the angel to, by any means. No, Crowley’s head was still swimming from the scene, and he was going to soak up every bit of physical contact that Aziraphale had to give to him. 

But the silence went on too long, and suddenly, a sharp anxiety took root in Crowley’s stomach. 

He bit his lip, thinking back through their day. He had  _ really _ acted like a bloody animal. And worse, he had enjoyed it. He had let Aziraphale pour out all of his affections for Crowley, while he was a damn snake, and… Well, what if Aziraphale felt weird about it now? Now that Crowley was no longer slithering on the floor? What if it was just hitting him that he really  _ was _ talking to Crowley when he said all of those things, and he regretted saying them?

“Angel?” He asked, tentatively.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, snapping out of whatever had a hold on him. 

“...If you didn’t like it, we don’t have to… Ever do it again.” Crowley said. He hated how much his stomach dropped at the idea, but he would  _ never _ want to make Aziraphale uncomfortable. “I mean. I know it had to be different with me being… Me, and all.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, slowly, “You’re worried that I didn’t  _ like _ it?”

“Um.” Crowley said, stupidly.

“Do you not remember all of the things I was saying right before you turned back into a human?” Aziraphale asked. The amusement in his voice had Crowley relaxing, just a bit. “I wasn’t lying.”

“I know,” Crowley said, because he did. When he had been in that headspace, all of the lovely things that Aziraphale said had rang out so true. Being a snake had, somehow, shut off that little voice inside his head that mocked every compliment he was ever given. “But I just... thought that you might feel differently, now.”

Crowley flinched at the pain in his own voice. 

He felt like a piece of skin that had just been sandpapered bare in a windstorm. 

“Oh, Dear.” Aziraphale sighed. “I believe you’re experiencing sub drop, Crowley.”

Crowley blinked. Fuck, _ okay _ . Yeah, Aziraphale was right. The insecurity, the sinking feeling in his stomach, the self-deprecating thoughts that were flickering through his head… Those were all hallmarks of sub drop. 

“Oh,” He said, “My bad.”

Aziraphale laughed, shaking his head. “Of course you would apologize.” He sighed. “This simply mustn’t do. Would it be okay with you if I carried you to your bed? Maybe brought you some fresh hot cocoa?”

His face was burning bright red again, he could feel it. “If you think it’s necessary.”

Aziraphale walked him down the hallway with an ease of strength that would have given Crowley a boner in any other situation. He sat Crowley carefully in his soft bed, leaning over Crowley and grabbing the comforter, pulling the other side over Crowley’s body until he was a blanket burrito. 

Aziraphale’s hands started to tuck him in, but Crowley protested.

“I am not a child!” Crowley said, indignantly rolling over onto his stomach so that the blanket was pulled tight around him. He teetered on the edge of the bed, but at least he had his dignity. 

“Alright, alright.” Aziraphale said. “I’m just trying to make sure that you feel cared for.”

Crowley put his face directly into the pillow and refused to look up. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and continued, “I’m going to go and make you a cup of cocoa. If you need me, shout. I’ll be back as soon as possible. 

Aziraphale left, and Crowley wiggled himself further onto the bed, away from the ledge. He closed his eyes, trying not to let himself think. It was simultaneously much too long and much too short before Aziraphale was walking back in with a steaming mug in his hand. He sat it delicately on the bedside table, and Crowley stared.

“I made it for you.” Aziraphale said, temptingly.

Crowley unrolled from his burrito, sitting up and scooting back as he reached for the cup. Aziraphale grabbed it, putting it directly into Crowley’s hands. The warmth felt wonderful against his cold hands, and he drank it all greedily. 

“Thank you.” He said, simply. He handed the empty mug back to Aziraphale. Aziraphale simply placed it back on the table, turning towards Crowley and motioning for him to move over.

“You need some reassurance,” Aziraphale insisted, “And I do believe that physical contact is the best way to accomplish that.”

Crowley scooted over, maybe a little  _ too _ quickly. Aziraphale chuckled, his eyes alight with humor. Crowley groaned, burying his face in his hands. He found Aziraphale’s arm swung around him, and before he knew it his head was being lead to the juncture between Aziraphale’s neck and his shoulder. Crowley’s eyes snapped open, but all he could see was skin.

“Is this okay?” Aziraphale asked, gently. Crowley took a deep breath, breathing in his angel’s scent. 

“I s’pose.” Crowley said. His body moved of its own accord; he was becoming far too comfortable with touching Aziraphale. He snuggled up against him, his hand coming to wrap around Aziraphale’s torso while one of his legs casually positioned itself over Aziraphale’s own. 

They sat there like that, for awhile. Aziraphale let it be silent, and Crowley cleared his head of its thoughts.

“I hope you know I really did enjoy it.” Aziraphale said, softly. It broke the silence, but not the peace. Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I just… Need some time to convince myself.” He elaborated.

“Would it help if I were to explicitly initiate the scene next time?”

Crowley considered this.

“I don’t think it’s that.” He said, and sighed. Oh, damn. He was about to get…  _ emotionally vulnerable _ . “I think it’s more the fear that you’ll realize how much of an idiot I’m being and think that it’s… Immature?”

“Crowley, I’m the one who initiated it.” Aziraphale reminded him. “I brought it up. I’ve done and enjoyed this with partners in the past. What is it that you find immature? It isn’t different from any other type of roleplay; you’re simply pretending to be something that you’re not. Something that I  _ enjoy _ seeing you as.”

Crowley shifted, restlessly. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I  _ know _ I’m right.” Aziraphale announced, smugly. Crowley rolled his eyes, but settled back in. Okay, so that wasn’t awful. In fact, the reassurance he received had made him feel significantly better about the whole ordeal. He barely noticed Aziraphale was speaking again, tuning in at the last possible moment to catch what he was saying. “-nd wanna know what else I know?”

“What?” Crowley mumbled, turning his head into Aziraphale’s sweater.

He felt a light kiss to the top of his head.

“I have the cutest snake in the world.”

Had he been human, Crowley’s heart would have stopped right then and there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quick warning this starts to directly contradict canon in this chapter. Because I can.

Anathema stared at the book Aziraphale had given her. Her eyes widened, and she glanced back up at the angel before running her hands reverently along the cover. “And you’re sure? That you want to give me this to me?”

Aziraphale crossed his ankles under her kitchen table and nodded, smiling. “You’re a wonderful friend, Anathema, and the more you know about thwarting angels and demons, the better it will be for all of us.”

Anathema felt tears raising in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, turning and walking to the kitchen island. She placed the old, probably  _ expensive _ tome on the table and promised herself that she would dive into it later. She tried not to let her excitement get the better of her as she turned back to look at her two guests.

“Other than that, what brings you two here today?”

“Aziraphale wanted to  _ chat. _ ” Crowley said. He was spread out, one of his arms across Aziraphale’s chair and the other lying on the table, wrapped around his mug. 

“I just thought that now that we have human friends, we should keep up with them.” Aziraphale argued, annoyed. “Their lifespans are  _ much _ shorter than ours, and I was going crazy cooped up in the house with  _ you _ all day.”

His voice was playful, and Anathema recognized it immediately for the flirting that it was. She also took no offense to Crowley’s tone; he was here, wasn’t he? If he didn’t like chatting with her, he would be gluing coins to the sidewalk.

“You two better not fight in my kitchen.” Anathema warned. “I don’t want to have to clean up any feathers.”

“Angel’s wings don’t come out when they fight.” Aziraphale informed her, even though she already knew that. 

“Sometimes they come out when they fuck.” Crowley informed her, which she did  _ not _ know. Aziraphale had the good sense to look mildly offended, which was, of course, exactly the reaction that Crowley had hoped to illicit.

Then, a wonderful idea hit her.

Anathema raised an eyebrow sharply. “Oh, really? What are Aziraphale’s wings like?”

“Soft.” Crowley said, immediately. There was a far-away look in his eyes, and she  _ knew _ that she’d just been proven right beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

“I KNEW IT!” She declared, pointing in between them. “You two have been shagging. For how long?”

Aziraphale made several sounds then, and Crowley’s face immediately blushed a deep red. They glanced at each other, and then both looked sharply away. Anathema realized then that they… Hadn’t really  _ talked _ about it, at least, not like they should have. 

“Angels can bring out their wings any time they want.” Aziraphale informed her, changing the subject. “I have the tendency to let mine out for some air, every great once in awhile.”

The implication was supposed to be that him and Crowley were not, in fact, fucking. Anathema knew that was a lie, but she didn’t want to push them and make them even more uncomfortable. In fact, she felt a little bad for bringing it up in the first place. 

“I’m… Sure they’re lovely?” She said, tentatively. “If you ever have any free feathers, let me know. I could certainly use some. Understanding the way your wings work could really help me come up with ways to bind them.”

“What good would that do? It’s not like we use them to fly on earth.” Crowley mumbled.

“Right.  _ On earth _ .” Anathema responded. “If you could bind an angel or a demon’s wings, though, it would make it a helluva lot harder to access certain points in heaven or hell, right?”

“I… Suppose that could be useful.” Aziraphale agreed. There was a short pause, and Anathema noted how uncomfortable Aziraphale was with the silence. “You know, we could actually probably provide you with some feathers now? If you wouldn’t mind a few strays. You may end up having to sweep your kitchen.”

“That would be wonderful!” Anathema responded. 

Twenty minutes later, she had a verifiable bucket of feathers. Aziraphale and Crowley had both manifested their wings and shaken them out, removing what was loose and forming two distinctive piles of black and white feathers. 

She took the bucket, and she placed it over by the book that Aziraphale had given her. She couldn’t wait to dive in. Already, her head was swimming with ideas as to what to do with them. 

“Thank you so much.” She said, sitting back down. Much of the air of awkwardness that had taken over earlier was gone, and she was grateful for the new comfort as she lead the conversation firmly into safer ground. “Newt will be home soon. I’m sure he’ll have lots to say about his day. I also texted him and asked him to pick up some dessert on his way. Supper’s just going to be Mac N Cheese, if that’s okay with you?”

Aziraphale beamed at her. 

“I’m honored you would think to feed us at all.”

~~~ 

Aziraphale thought about what Anathema had said. More specifically, the assumptions that she had made once Crowley had joked about wing appearance during carnal activity. 

Aziraphale wondered whether or not Crowley would want other people to  _ know _ he was having sex with Aziraphale. If that was even what this  _ was _ . Aziraphale glanced at Crowley passively, taking in his knuckles clenched on the steering wheel, the aloofness that his glasses provided. 

What if he was uncomfortable with the idea of Anathema knowing? Was he… Was he embarrassed? Embarrassed of Aziraphale?

No, of  _ course _ not. Aziraphale just had to keep telling himself that. He knew that he would go crazy if he started dissecting every little thing that Crowley did or said. 

Honestly, Aziraphale knew that this whole thing would get less confusing if they just…  _ talked _ about it. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing what they had. If he started a conversation about his feelings and then Crowley clammed up and shut him out, then all of this would have been for nothing and Aziraphale would end up losing his best friend. He  _ couldn’t _ take that kind of a risk. 

“What do you think Anathema’s going to do with the feathers?” He asked, making casual conversation. Crowley’s tensed knuckles relaxed, and the speedometer inched down towards a more reasonable level. 

“Hopefully, we’ll never have to find out.” He teased. “I wouldn’t want to be on that girl’s bad side. Quick as a whip, that one.”

“Agreed.” Aziraphale said, letting out a small hum. “She has the tendency to put things together rather quickly.”

Damn him and his impulsive mouth. Hadn’t he  _ just _ decided that they weren’t going to talk about it?!

“Erm. Sorry about that, by the way.” Crowley said, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean to, um. Let anyone know anything you might not want them to know.”

Aziraphale blinked at him.

“What?!” He exclaimed. “Whatever do you  _ mean _ ?”

“Y’know!” Crowley said, suddenly nervous. “It’s--I-- I almost let the…  _ new _ arrangement slip to her, and I’m  _ assuming _ that’s something you wanted to keep between…. Between…”

“I assumed that  _ you _ wanted to keep it quiet!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Did it not bother  _ you _ when you ‘let it slip’?”

“No!” Crowley said, immediately. He laughed, but it came out tenser than usual. There was a pause, and Crowley slowly relaxed. 

“So…” Aziraphale said, slowly. “You’re okay with Anathema knowing? About… The arrangement?”

“As long as you’re okay with it.” Crowley confirmed. “And as long as it doesn’t make her uncomfortable. We’ll skimp on the details.”

“I doubt anything about it would phase her.” Aziraphale informed him, thinking back to earlier conversations they had had concerning her relationship with one Mr. Newton Pulsiver. “She told me once of Newt’s affinity for being pegged.”

Crowley made an appreciative face. 

“Alright.” He said. “I respect that. Actually, I think I respect  _ Newt _ a lot  _ more _ now.”

“They do make a cute couple, don’t they?” Aziraphale mused. 

~~~ 

A couple of days had passed in relative domestic bliss. 

Crowley cooked for him, Aziraphale did the dishes, they played board games and discussed ancient literature and asked each other stupid questions about who they would bring back from the dead if they could. 

But Aziraphale felt a familiar itch start to rear its ugly head as more and more time went by without anything… romantic. It seemed that their conversation on the way back from Anathema’s house had put some sort of block between them, and Aziraphale was finding it harder and harder to breach it. It had been a cruel wakeup call that they might have been fucking, but they certainly weren’t  _ lovers _ . 

But he didn’t want to lose the progressive intimacy that they had built. And besides, they  _ did _ have to keep up practicing, right? For appearances sake?

The thought stewed in Aziraphale’s head for  _ hours _ before he finally got up the balls to say something about it. 

Crowley was cooking breakfast for dinner (bacon and pancakes) in nothing but a pair of baggy sweatpants, and Aziraphale had been watching him from across the room. His eyes would assess the narrow glide of Crowley’s hipbones into his pants, the soft glean of condensation that appeared across his chest when he leaned over the steaming dish, the way his shoulder muscles rolled under his skin as he stretched upwards, cracking his back… 

Aziraphale mentally checked to make sure that he wasn’t drooling. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Crowley pointed out, finally. Aziraphale took every bit of courage (and repressed sexual attraction) he had, and spit it out. 

“I think we should consider doing another practice session sometime soon.” He asserted. Crowley turned, eyebrows raising. 

“Like, one of our….”

“I think you should use one of the impact implements.” Aziraphale said, blushing. 

Crowley made a small noise in the back of his throat, and Aziraphale regained a little bit of his confidence. “You want me to hit you, Angel?”

“I think it would…” Aziraphale bit his lip, trying to quell the fire that rose in him at the thought of what he was about to ask for, “I think it would add a layer of realism to our cover story if you were to leave some marks. If hell stops in in the next few days, there will be old marks there. That will show that we’re being sexually active in between visits.”

Crowley thankfully didn’t say what they were both thinking; they really  _ were _ sexually active between visits, even if only to practice. Aziraphale was grateful for that. 

“Alright.” Crowley agreed. “I think that sounds good to me. Do you want the whole lingerie getup, or…?”

“Whatever you feel most comfortable in.” Aziraphale reassured him. On second thought, he added, “But I do quite like the lingerie.”

Crowley’s smile became sly and embarrassed, like someone had just told him a secret he wanted to hear but already knew. 

“Tonight?” He questioned. Aziraphale felt his skin flare hot at the simple question. He hadn’t expected Crowley to have suggested a time that soon. 

“That sounds wonderful.” Aziraphale mumbled. 

Crowley flipped the pancake he had in the skittle. 

~~~

“Strip for me, Angel.” Crowley requested, his voice low and husky. It sent a verifiable shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. 

They’d talked about this, but Aziraphale had also given Crowley the green light to really take control and surprise him a little bit. It made Aziraphale tingle with anticipation, eager to find out what Crowley had planned. 

His hands trembled as he undid the buttons on his shirt. He had gotten dressed in the morning; he always did, even if he had nowhere to go. Crowley had the tendency to stay in whatever pajamas he had been wearing the night before. 

Aziraphale tossed his shirt to the side, reaching down to unbutton his pants. He undid the zipper carefully and slipped the pants down over his hips, shimmying out of them. 

Crowley had gotten dressed up for their scene. He was wearing lipstick in that deep red shade that made Aziraphale feel weak in the knees, and the thin silicone whip from Aziraphale’s collection was in his hands. A gorgeous sheer robe with black feathers adorning the ends draped around his shoulders and hanging down against the floor, a thin lace brasier covering his chest. Black panties of the same lace. His Effort, though, was very obviously male. And pushing up against the front of the lingerie in a way that was making a certain angel’s mouth water.

He reached forward, letting the tip of the whip just barely brush against the skin of Aziraphale’s chest, down to his stomach…

He removed it, and gestured towards Aziraphale’s underwear. 

“Those too.”

Aziraphale hurriedly dropped them, stepping out of their confines. 

“Good.” Crowley praised. He took a couple of steps to the side, looking at Aziraphale the way that Aziraphale could often be found gazing at a particularly flaky French pastry. Aziraphale fought his urge to turn and watch Crowley as he walked around him. Aziraphale kept his head down, looking towards the floor. He tried to look as demure and submissive as possible. 

“Hands behind your back.” Crowley requested, his voice coming from behind. Aziraphale immediately reacted, his hands reaching behind him and his wrists firmly pressing together. He felt the cool touch of fur and leather against his skin as Crowley secured his arms. 

Crowley’s breath was suddenly on his neck, and Aziraphale let out a helpless little sound as Crowley pressed a kiss into his skin. 

“Hope you’re okay with lipstick marks.” Crowley purred, as he pulled away. “I know they’re less permanent than the  _ other _ kind of marks you want me to leave tonight, but I figured we could still have a bit of fun, yes?”

“Please,” Aziraphale said, surprised at how quickly he was giving into this, giving into the lack of power. He felt  _ helpless _ . It was not often that an angel felt helpless, and even less often when it was with someone said angel trusted with their very life, existence and soul. 

Crowley stalked around, coming to stand in front of Aziraphale. This time when Aziraphale’s eyes traveled up and down his body, his hands  _ tingled _ . His fingers twitched with want, and he felt deliciously denied as he realized that Crowley was laid out before him like the finest buffet that he would not be permitted access to. 

Crowley leaned forward, his hands running along Aziraphale’s shoulders as he pressed another kiss against Aziraphale’s neck, this time on the opposite side. Aziraphale shuddered at the feeling of the lipstick, and he couldn’t wait to run to the restroom after this was over and survey the mess that he was certain Crowley was going to make of him. 

Crowley moved further down, a couple of quick, short kisses to Aziraphale’s chest leading the way. He paused at the nipple, his eyes flickering up mischievously before his tongue flickered out, laving over it. 

Aziraphale made a strangled noise, biting his lip. Crowley pulled off. 

“Don’t hold yourself back,” Crowley said, gently. He punctuated the sentence by blowing a short burst of cool air over Aziraphale’s already sensitive nipple, and Aziraphale didn’t hold back his moan this time. 

His hands tugged at the shackles behind him, fingers itching to run themselves through his partner’s hair. 

“C’mon,” Crowley purred, looking up seductively through his eyelashes, “You’d better behave. Wouldn’t want me to have to punish you, would you?”

“How would you intend to punish me?” Aziraphale asked, scoffing. “You’re already going to whip me. Which I will  _ enjoy _ , might I add.” 

Crowley pressed another kiss lower, along Aziraphale’s rib. His knees hit the floor as he moved downwards, carefully avoiding Aziraphale’s already leaking cock. 

“I do believe you checked off “orgasm denial” as a yes on your checklist. Correct me if I’m wrong, though.”

Aziraphale felt his cock twitch, and he was immediately afraid. In the  _ best way possible _ . 

"You wouldn't dare," Aziraphale gasped, knowing that Crowley would absolutely dare. 

“Oh, try me.” Crowley suggested. He kissed down further, his lips leaving hot red marks across Aziraphale’s skin. 

“I… Don’t think I want to.” Aziraphale said. Crowley glanced up through his eyelashes, grinning like a wolf. Aziraphale felt something in him  _ melt _ . God, he loved bringing out looks like that… He loved it when Crowley looked  _ happy _ . Aziraphale would give over all of himself, body and soul, to see that smile. 

Crowley kissed  _ lower _ , his kisses sporadic across Aziraphale’s soft lower belly, and down onto his thighs. He turned, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Aziraphale’s member, leaving the  _ faintest _ impression of red. Aziraphale wanted to cum right then and there. 

But he knew that the show was just getting started. 

Crowley stood, taking a half-step back. “Turn around.” 

Aziraphale turned, and he felt a shiver of anticipation seize him. He bent over ever so slightly, his feet spreading automatically. While it was true that he usually had been dominant in his other encounters, he still knew what Crowley would want to see. He had had enough practice to know that much. 

“So  _ obedient _ .” Crowley purred. Aziraphale felt a hand trailing lightly down his back, stopping at the cuffs holding his hands together. Crowley grabbed the short chain between them, giving it a little, taught tug. Reminding Aziraphale of who was in  _ control _ . 

The first strike came without warning. Suddenly, there was a flash of pain and a hot, molten  _ pleasure _ striking through his left hip, across his buttocks. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted, unable to stop himself in his surprise. 

“What, Angel?” Crowley questioned. The silicone whip was ghosted delicately across his skin, a tease, a promise…. Aziraphale’s head spun. 

“Hnnng,” He said, helpfully. 

Crowley chuckled. 

“What do you say?” Crowley questioned, lightly. “Twenty lashes ought to be enough, right?”

“Y-Yes.” Aziraphale said. Then, for good measure, he tagged on, “Sir.”

“Sir?” Crowley asked, shocked by the name. He quickly recovered, and when he did, he sounded pleased. “You don’t have to do that when we’re alone, you know. But I do like it.”

“Good, sir.” Aziraphale responded. 

Crowley rewarded him with another sudden, unexpected lash. This one landed right across the fat of his ass, and Aziraphale hissed at the pleasant sting. 

“Why don’t you count these for me?” Crowley proposed. 

“Two.” Aziraphale supplied, helpfully. He felt his consciousness melting away, replaced with the eery calm and hunger for sensation that he immediately recognized as sub space. He hoped that he could stay coherent long enough to finish.

Crowley hit him again, twice, in quick succession. Aziraphale quickly touted, “Three, four!”

Crowley lightly trailed the silicone across Aziraphale’s rapidly reddening skin before hitting him right along the trail. Aziraphale squirmed as his senses lit up bright. 

“Five,” He remembered. 

“You’re doing wonderful.” Crowley informed him. Aziraphale felt the pressure Crowley was putting on his cuffs remove itself, and he was simultaneously proud that he could be trusted to stay still and sad at the loss of the trapped feeling it had provided. Crowley quickly erased those thoughts from his mind with a sharp hit he wasn’t expecting across his upper right thigh. 

“Six.” Aziraphale said, wiggling his hips. 

“You know, you’re marking up  _ beautifully _ ,” Crowley informed him. The silicone trailed lightly across his right buttock, and when it came up, Aziraphale expected it to come back down in the same spot. Instead, it hit across his left, and he let out a startled noise.

“Seven!” He breathed, his heart hammering with excitement. 

Crowley reached his hand out, lightly running his fingers along where Aziraphale’s wings sat in the astral dimension. Aziraphale groaned. The pleasure was a ghost of what he felt when Crowley touched the real thing, and it only served to make him want to bring them into play. 

He kept them firmly tucked away. This… Wasn’t a mating display, after all. 

Crowley brought down the whip three times in a row, sharply, giving no indication of where he was going to hit until he had already struck. Aziraphale cried out, his legs beginning a light, although pleasant, tremble. 

“Eight, nine, ten,” He breathed. 

All the awareness that had been brought to his ass had him craving something… Something that he knew he had no right to want. Crowley wouldn’t want to… Crowley wouldn’t want to actually  _ fuck _ him, would he? Could they practice  _ that _ ?

Would Aziraphale even  _ want _ to, knowing that it wasn’t real?

Strike!

“Eleven!”

Still, he couldn’t stop his brain from wandering, turning over the possibility in his head until it was all he could think about. Crowley’s skin warm against his, Crowley breathing a sweet sigh of pleasure as he filled Aziraphale to the brim, Crowley biting at his ear while hammering into Aziraphale’s prostate until he had come thoroughly undone… 

Crowley struck him again and Aziraphale gasped, moaning at the pleasure. His brain was foggy, focussed so clearly on what he desperately wanted, he couldn’t… He couldn’t  _ think _ .

“Head in the clouds, Angel?” Crowley asked, amused. 

“Tw-twelve!” Aziraphale responded, anxiously, as if Crowley could read his mind and somehow knew exactly how filthy his thoughts were. 

“That’s more like it.” Crowley sing-songed. But then, he dipped down just a little closer, his voice quieter. “Color, Angel?”

“Green.” Aziraphale reassured him. Aziraphale forced himself to turn his thoughts back towards the scene they were in. He could fantasize about Crowley fucking him later. Right now, Crowley was  _ hitting him _ , which was nearly as delicious. 

“Good.” Crowley breathed. Aziraphale felt a quick kiss pressed against the back of his neck, and it brought with it a  _ most _ embarrassing sound. He hardly had time to feel any shame before Crowley brought the whip back down. 

“Thirteen,” Aziraphale’s hips thrust forward as the silicone assaulted his skin. He was starting to get more sensitive now as it got difficult for Crowley to avoid places he already hit. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to shy away from the sting or push back into the whip as it bit into his skin again, carrying a little more force. “Fourteen.”

“You’re taking this so well, Angel.” Crowley announced, and Aziraphale gasped as he felt a warm hand rub itself over his sore ass. Again, images assaulted his brain. Crowley’s deft fingers sliding inside of him, searching out his prostate, massaging it until-

Crowley removed his hand, bringing down the whip. Not once, not twice, but three times. Aziraphale hissed, the pain making him curl his toes deliciously. 

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.”

Aziraphale was getting really excited now. He didn’t know what Crowley had in mind for after this, but he was willing to bet that it was going to be fun. There were so many things… So many things for them to try. 

Twice more, harsh, hitting his upper thighs, licking into the delicately sensitive skin there with precision accuracy. 

“Eighteen, nineteen.” Aziraphale said, his voice shaking with anticipation. 

Crowley took his time then. 

Aziraphale felt the hand on his skin, warm and inviting, a subtle suggestion. “Hmm. You’ve been awfully good, Aziraphale. But if I don’t make it to twenty, you don’t get to cum, do you?”

Aziraphale gasped. Something hot flowed through him. Shame, or desperation, maybe? He wasn’t sure. But he knew at that moment that he was not above begging. And he trusted that Crowley knew it, too. 

But he also knew that if Crowley had already made up his mind on this issue, then that was what Aziraphale was going to get. 

After all, the technicality sounded just like something Crowley would do. And Aziraphale would be lying if he said he wouldn’t be into it. 

And it was in that glorious uncertainty that Aziraphale felt the sharp pain of the whip cracking against his skin one last time, and nothing had  _ ever _ felt sweeter. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, the words flooding out of him. “Thank you.”

“You forgot to count.” Crowley pointed out, but Aziraphale could hear the smile in his voice. Still, Aziraphale blushed. 

“Twenty.” He said. 

Aziraphale didn’t move from his position. Maybe it was for the sake of a fantasy, so he could pretend like Crowley might see his ass and ask to fuck him right then and there. Maybe it was because he knew the fact that he wasn’t acting without orders would please Crowley. Maybe it was because not acting without orders pleased  _ him _ , made him feel disciplined. 

Either way, Crowley walked towards the cabinet and opened it, setting the whip back inside. Aziraphale wiggled his hips impatiently, waiting for some kind of indication as to what would come next. 

“How do you want me to get you off, Aziraphale?” Crowley questioned. His voice was honey-smooth, carrying with it the weight of a thousand delicious implications. 

“However you want to.” Aziraphale answered, immediately. It was an honest enough answer. He wanted Crowley to do whatever he wanted. He wanted to be used however Crowley deemed fit. 

“You’re going to need to be more specific.Unless, that is, you don’t want to get off.” Crowley teased. Aziraphale sighed, shaking his head. Crowley walked back towards him.

He wanted very badly to get off. He didn’t want to ask about penetration. Not when they hadn’t discussed it beforehand, and definitely not when he was in such a delicate headspace. 

But that bright red lipstick had made him feel weak in the knees earlier when Crowley had pressed that kiss to his cock...

“Would you…” He felt strangely guilty asking for it, but he powered through, “Suck me off?”

“Yessssss,” Crowley responded. Aziraphale gulped as he suddenly felt Crowley’s hand on his shackles again, pulling him up. Aziraphale took a step back, and his back pressed up against Crowley’s chest. Crowley leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to Aziraphale’s neck as his hands drifted around to Aziraphale’s weeping cock, wrapping it in his fist and giving it a couple of loose, preparatory pumps.

“Yes! Please,” Aziraphale gasped, practically collapsing into Crowley’s arms. He wasn’t even sure what it was exactly that he was asking for, but he knew that he wanted it more than anything else in the world right now. 

“Turn around.” Crowley commanded, removing his hands from Airaphale’s penis and stepping back. Aziraphale did as he was told, spinning to face Crowley. Crowley wasted no time in dropping to his knees, appreciatively eyeing Aziraphale’s length. “You know,” He commented, “You have an  _ exceptionally _ pretty cock, Angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t have time to react to that before Crowley’s lips were around him, his tongue separating to lick two distinguished lines along Aziraphale’s cock as he  _ sucked _ , bringing Aziraphale flush with the back of his throat. 

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. It had  _ not _ been like this last time. Crowley had taken his time then, for goodness’ sake! This, this was…

Crowley started a fast pace, his head bobbing along. He gave soft little hums and stopped along the head to tongue at the slit, causing Aziraphale to buck his hips. Aziraphale opened his mouth to apologize, but he was unable to get a word out before Crowley was working again, sinking down and taking Aziraphale’s head into his throat. 

He swallowed rapidly, and Aziraphale was shaking with sensitivity, desperately trying to hold himself back. He wanted this to last, at least a little bit longer. He couldn’t cum, not yet.

Crowley gave a louder, more determined hum, gazing up at Aziraphale through smoky eyes. Aziraphale could see his lipstick smeared now, reaching past the line of Crowley’s lips. The same red color was deliciously streaked along his cock, like another mark from Crowley. 

“Crowley,” He said, his voice a warning as it climbed the scales, “I’m getting close-”

Crowley intensified his speed. Aziraphale, having not expected it, was not the least bit prepared for such a reaction. 

He came.  _ Hard _ . 

He moaned as Crowley swallowed around him, sucking up every drop that Aziraphale had to offer. His arms and legs felt like jelly, and he was still shaking when Crowley pulled off, getting off of his knees and standing. 

He hesitated, and Aziraphale almost asked whether or not something was wrong. 

Crowley pressed a quick, affectionate kiss against his cheek before stepping behind Aziraphale, so that he was out of sight. Aziraphale thought it was nothing short of a miracle; Crowley didn’t see his shocked reaction as he processed the kiss. 

His hands were suddenly free, and they fell to Aziraphale’s sides. Crowley reached out, the feathers of his robe brushing lightly along Aziraphale’s skin. Crowley walked back around and found his right wrist, rubbing little circles into it. Aziraphale smiled at how the gesture was already becoming familiar. 

He didn’t let himself dwell on that thought too long.

“Was that okay, Angel?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale could hear the worry in his voice. 

“That was… Beyond compare, dearest.” He informed Crowley. His eyes drifted down towards Crowley’s own erection, but found that his dear friend was no longer aroused. The evidence of Crowley’s orgasm was clear, the front of the panties glistened with moisture. “I take it you enjoyed yourself as well?”

Crowley had the decency to blush. 

“Yes, well.” He mumbled, “You haven’t seen how hot those marks are yet. Made me feel all territorial.” 

Aziraphale felt a sharp pang of want pierce him. It was almost staggering. 

Because he wanted Crowley to feel  _ territorial _ over him all the time. The fact that he had even just the once was enough to send Aziraphale reeling, a satisfied feeling settling deep in his bones. He wanted to feel that way all the time. And it gave him the boost in bravery to suggest something he might have never suggested otherwise. 

“You know,” He said, slowly, “If you ever wanted to do something that would  _ really _ mark me as…  _ your territory _ , take this to another level, as it were,” he felt giddy at the way Crowley’s eyes shifted in color towards a darker yellow, “I wouldn’t be against penetration.”

Crowley made a noise. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean, and for a moment, he panicked. 

Then, thankfully, Crowley regained his composure. 

“You know, Angel, that’s a tempting offer.” Aziraphale felt his heart sink as he waited for Crowley to turn him down, “I… Definitely want that. But let’s not talk about it now. There’s a bed right there, and this lace is getting a little itchy. Why don’t I strip down, and we can get some sleep?”

“We could… Discuss it in the morning?” Aziraphale suggested, hopefully.

Crowley smiled a small smile. It shone in his eyes. 

“In the morning.” Crowley agreed. 

~~~

Anathema lifted the black feather up towards the light, squinting at it. The darkness gleamed with iridescent color shimmering just underneath the surface, like oil. 

“You’ve  _ got _ to be different, somehow.” She mumbled, her eyes squinting. 

She sighed, setting the feather off to her right. 

Her desk was filled with potions and sigils and papers splayed across it as she worked on putting together her guide. Somehow… Somehow, she just  _ knew _ that figuring this out would hold some sort of an answer. She had been trying various hypotheses all night, but she couldn’t seem to get to the bottom of it!

She sighed, her hands dropping across her desk with a thump as she rededicated herself. Her eyes were tired and her mind foggy, but she knew that she could figure this out if she just  _ refused _ to give up. 

Not for the first time, she wished that she had kept Agnes’s book. 

She shook off the thought. She wouldn’t be doing this  _ at all _ if she had kept Agnes’s book. She would be doing whatever it was Agnes wanted her to, whenever she wanted her to, and Anathema would continue to walk around as a sockpuppet to a woman who had been dead for centuries. 

She reached for one of Aziraphale’s feathers, lying across the table. As she reached, her arm caught on a little vial of holy water, sending it rolling across the top of the desk. She sighed heavily, watching with mild interest as the water wove its way across the table. 

Then, it came into contact with the black feather, and all hell broke loose. 

Black, roiling smoke came up off the table before fizzling into the air. The feather dissolved like  _ acid _ had touched it, fizzling out from the single touch, leaving behind a pile of what could only be described as  _ goo _ . 

Anathema coughed, waving the smoke away from her face. She rolled her eyes. Of  _ course _ she would be clumsy enough to do that. 

She glanced at the pile of mush and something struck her as kind of odd. It… Well, it almost looked like her sixth grade science project, when she had mixed a baking soda volcano and set it off, squeeing with delight as it oozed across the kitchen counter. Anathema felt a pang of longing go through her, remembering her childhood. 

In her education, she had always had a special passion for science. But ever since she had finished school, all of her time had been used up with magic. Not that she was complaining, of course. She  _ loved _ magic. It was just… 

Well, a little bit of  _ science _ could be fun now and then, couldn’t it?

She stared at the remains of the black feather fondly, resolving herself to make a baking soda volcano tomorrow while Newton was at work tomorrow. 

She stared at the goo a little harder. She felt realization tugging at the edges of her fingers, something manifesting. She squinted, leaning forward. It did…. It looked an  _ awful _ lot like her science project. She’d never seen magic look like that before. Not that she could  _ remember _ , anyways… Maybe-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the harsh sound of something hitting the floor behind her. With a startled cry, Anathema whirled herself around. She grabbed the nearest object (a feather duster, very intimidating) and turned towards the intruder, giving a shout. 

Newton gave a sharp yelp, ducking down and putting his hands up in surrender as he crouched down next to the lamp he had just knocked over. 

“You gave me a heart attack!” Anathema accused, waving her hand. Newt grimaced, but slowly came out of his crouch, reaching down and picking the lamp up off of the floor as he sheepishly grinned. 

“Sorry,” He apologized. Anathema sighed, feeling herself soften as he gently set the lamp back in place. He looked over at her with those big, brown,  _ adorable _ puppy dog eyes, like he could just  _ tell _ that he was going to be told no, but decided to ask anyways. “I just… Wanted to ask you to bed? I like having you next to me, and it’s getting awfully late.”

Anathema sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not everyone has to wake up at 7 AM, you know. I could stay up a couple more hours, and I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not asking for you!” He argued, though they both knew that he was. 

She sighed, feeling herself give in. This was a battle that she ultimately lost every night. Newton was too cute when he looked at her like that; like she had hung the moon in the sky just for him. She couldn’t say no. 

“Alright.” She said, softly. Her steps were light against the floor as she walked towards him, her hips swaying lightly as she yawned. She stretched, feeling several bones in her back crack sharply before settling back into the position they were intended to be in, and relief swept through her. 

Newton put a hand on her lower back. Before they left the room, his other hand shot out, flicking the study light off and leaving the room shrouded in darkness. 

~~~ 

She had been lying in bed for roughly five minutes before she sat up sharply, tearing off her sleeping mask as she stared at the wall. 

“IT’S NOT A MAGICAL REACTION,” She declared. Newton gazed up at her through sleep-glazed eyes.

“Wut.”

“The way Crowley’s feathers reacted to the holy water. It wasn’t a magical reaction!” She declared, gleefully. This clearly did nothing to help Newt’s confusion, but she plowed on. She had started the thought, and she was bloody well going to finish it. “I mean, it  _ is _ magic, magic is just… Science we don’t understand yet! But I think I understand this one!”

“Ummm… Okay?” Newt questioned, blinking owlishly up at her. 

She turned away, feeling guilty as she flung herself out of her bed. But she couldn’t help it! She needed to get to the bottom of this right away. Surely Newt would understand that?

“Sorry,” She apologized. She stopped in the doorway, turning around to blow him a kiss. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can, I just  _ cannot _ lose this train of thought!”

“I get it.” Newt sighed. Anathema watched fondly as he turned towards his own pillow, burying his face in the fluffy cover. She promised herself that she would  _ only _ be a couple more hours. 

She turned, heading down the stairs. She had to restrain herself from taking them two at a time. A wide grin stretched across her face. 

She had a lead-- No, wait. 

She had a  _ hypothesis _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of plot for you here towards the end!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself for some science babble and what is most likely a very, very misguided explanation of the way that proteins and shit work. It's, uh. Plot convenience, if I'm being honest.

Crowley woke  _ slowly _ , with Aziraphale pressed against him. 

His arms were wrapped around Aziraphale’s soft stomach, their bare legs intertwined underneath the covers, and every single cell in Crowley’s body  _ sang _ with the contact. Crowley propped himself up on his elbow, leaning forward to see the soft contours of Azirphale’s face.

Aziraphale shifted, rolling back, eyes blinking lazily open as Crowley stared down. Crowley’s lips buzzed with anticipation, with want, with  _ yearning _ . 

He reminded himself of his own dumb rule, ‘No kissing on the lips’, and he almost regretted it. 

_ As if _ that made this whole thing more bearable. 

… But really, it  _ did _ . He needed that boundary, that one last thing that he had to deny himself. He knew that if he really and truly had all of Aziraphale, he would  _ really _ forget that this was fake, and he would say or do something that he would regret. He would delude himself into thinking that Aziraphale felt the same way as him. And he would ruin their friendship. 

“You look concerned.” Aziraphale said, his voice soft. “Is everything okay, Darling?”

Crowley felt his face heat at the nickname. He was sure it was a force of habit for Aziraphale-- something that he probably called all of his sexual partners after a good romp. But Crowley didn’t know  _ how _ he was supposed to react to it, so he… Didn’t. 

“I’m fine.” He responded, answering Aziraphale’s question. “Just thinking about last night.” He decided to bring it to a much more pleasant topic, the topic of him claiming Aziraphale. “...About that offer you made, actually.”

“...” Aziraphale let the silence drag on, and Crowley could tell it was intentional. There was a spark of playful mischief in his eyes. “Oh?”

“Mmmmhmmm.” Crowley responded, his own eyes narrowing. 

Aziraphale turned away, only sneaking the coyest glances back at Crowley as he elaborated, “I’m not quite sure I know what offer you’re referring to.”

Crowley gave a groan, letting his face fall against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You are  _ not _ going to make me say it. Are you trying to make me say it, Angel?”

“Quite so, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale confirmed. Crowley could hear the smile in his voice, and he pulled his head back up again just to be able to see it.

“Alright, then.” He looked Aziraphale dead in the eyes. As much as it made his heart throb with  _ want _ , it was worth it. Aziraphale’s beautiful blue eyes stared back at him patiently. “I want to know about fucking you. Do you… Really feel like we’re there? Comfort-wise, I mean.”

“I would say we’re awfully comfortable with each other.” Aziraphale responded, wiggling against Crowley to emphasize his point. “I’m certain it wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. And that really  _ would _ be the ultimate confirmation for Hell, would it not?”

Crowley felt his heart deflate a little. 

Oh, right. He had forgotten that this was all  _ physical _ for Aziraphale. He loved Crowley deeply-- Crowley could see that,  _ any _ fool could see that-- but not romantically. This was not about romantic comfort. No matter how hard Crowley projected his own feelings onto the situation. 

“Yes, it would.” He confirmed. “So I suppose practice is the best bet. If we’re ever in a situation where we need to give Hell something that they can’t deny, we won’t be doing it for the first time.”

“I’d rather like our first time to remain private, yes.” Aziraphale mumbled, staring off into the distance like he was thinking very hard. Crowley stared at the same spot on the wall, willing away his warm feelings. 

“When were you thinking of doing this?” Crowley asked.

“Last night.” Aziraphale said. “When you were touching my skin after you-”

A flare of arousal shot through Crowley, and he cut Aziraphale off, “-I meant in the  _ future! _ ” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale said. His face crinkled up in thought, and Crowley couldn’t help but notice just how absolutely adorable it was. “I, erm… Whenever I submit to you next, I would presume. Whenever we both feel like it.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Crowley responded. He leaned down a little, nuzzling his nose into Aziraphale’s hair and breathing in deeply. He smelled Aziraphale  _ strongly _ , the scent of old books and sweet cologne and sugar. 

“... In the mean time,” Aziraphale said, softly, “How about we get ourselves some breakfast?”

“Uggh,” Crowley groaned, not quite ready to leave the warmth and comfort of their bed. Aziraphale laughed, but pushed the covers aside and wormed his way out from under Crowley’s arm. He walked towards the door fully naked. 

“Are we cooking in the nude?” Crowley questioned, suddenly intrigued. That sounded like it could be fun… Or, well. Maybe if the dangly bits weren’t so sensitive. It seemed dangerous, now that he’d put more than two seconds of thought into it.

“I’m going to go get my comfortable trousers!” Aziraphale responded, sounding vaguely offended. “And I would hope that you would do the same.”

Crowley rolled out of bed, grinning stupidly to himself. 

He followed after Aziraphale until he reached the hallway, where he turned to walk up the stairs. Then, he paused. 

“Hey,” He said, realizing that he wasn’t certain he had closed the curtains last night. The backdoor neighbors didn’t need to see anything lewd today. “Do you think I could borrow a pair of yours? I just-”

A pair of trousers landed on his head, briefly blinding him. Crowley grabbed them and yanked them off, turning towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s head was poking out of his bedroom door, his lips pulled into a mischievous smile. Crowley hadn’t even heard him enter the room. 

“Thanks.” He said, trying to hide his amusement. 

A few minutes later, he was staring at the ingredients in the fridge with his eyebrows furrowed, trying to piece together what he should make for breakfast like it was a puzzle. One of the things Crowley had not expected when he signed up for the whole ‘being human and cooking’ deal was trying to  _ decide what to cook _ . Christ, it didn’t matter  _ how much _ you had in the fridge!! It still didn’t feel like enough!

“Aziraphale?” He whined, turning towards his Angel. Aziraphale looked up from the morning paper. “I can’t decide what to have for breakfast. And for the  _ love of Satan _ if you say you don’t care, I will _ lose my shit. _ ”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, lowering the newspaper. “Hmmm… I dare say it’s been awhile since I’ve had quiche. That’s a breakfast dish, right? We have some spinach and some mozzarella…”

“Do you have a recipe for that?” Crowley asked.

“I have the Google.” Aziraphale responded, smugly. He rose, walking over to the couch to pick up his phone. He squinted at the screen for a moment, searching. Crowley watched with amusement as Aziraphale opened google and started putting in his question, his pointer finger pushing one button after another on the touch screen. It took longer than it rightfully should have for Aziraphale to find a recipe. When he did, he walked over to Crowley with a jaunty step, holding out his phone proudly to display what he had found. “This one should do!”

Crowley’s eyes scanned the recipe. It was a little bit complicated, sure. But neither of them  _ actually _ needed to eat, and Aziraphale’s eyes were lit up with excitement. 

“Alright,” Crowley mumbled, squinting at the list of ingredients. It looked like they had all of them, so there was nothing else to say. He glanced up at Aziraphale, who then set his phone on the counter. “Get the bread and the olive oil, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Aziraphale purred, the lightest hint of suggestion in his voice. Crowley felt a pleasant tingle creep up his spine as he watched Aziraphale walk away, humming softly as he opened the cabinet and reached for the bread. 

Crowley got out the baking sheet and preheated the oven for four-hundred degrees. First, they needed to make some hard bread crumbs for the crust. 

Aziraphale deposited the loaf of bread and the olive oil, and Crowley set to work with his hands. He grabbed the bread and began tearing off small pieces, humming softly as he did. Aziraphale didn’t need to be asked to help with this. He picked up the next two pieces of bread and began giving them the same treatment, setting the broken crumbs next to Crowley’s on the baking sheet. 

Crowley drizzled olive oil over the top of the bread once they had it all done, and reached for the salt and pepper shakers. He stared at the mass for a moment before apprehensively raising the salt, spreading what he hoped was a light layer over the top. Crowley’s main problem as a cook so far had been his inability to correctly estimate how much spice was to be put on a dish. 

He added pepper next. That one was a little bit easier; at least you could  _ see _ pepper. 

The pan slid into the oven with a satisfying pop, and he shut the oven door, setting a timer. He glanced at Azirphale’s phone, eyes scanning ahead in the instructions. Before he could even ask, Aziraphale had already retrieved the cast-iron skillet, and was greasing it up with non-stick spray. 

Crowley busied himself with whipping the eggs into shape, grabbing the spinach and mozzarella from the fridge while he was there. 

They worked in relative silence, the occasional request or snide comment never quite piercing through to start a real conversation. Crowley was fine with that. In fact, he  _ loved _ it. One of his favorite things about his relationship with Aziraphale was how easy it was to just be quiet with him, to just relax. Aziraphale didn’t needlessly fill silence with unnecessary chatter. And they were both comfortable that way. 

Once the bread crumbs were in the bottom of the skillet and the eggs, cheese and spinach had been properly poured in, the cast iron was slid into the oven. Crowley set a new timer, but knew that it wasn’t going to get much use. 

He was too scared of burning the quiche to leave his spot crouched in front of the oven, slitted eyes peering in as he waited for a the top to brown. 

A couple of minutes into his paranoid quiche-watching, Aziraphale’s phone began to ring incessantly. Crowley glared at it as Aziraphale grabbed it, squinting at the screen. His face lit up as he swiped to answer it. “Hello?”

“-aphale!” Anathema’s voice came through, half of her word cut off before Aziraphale punched the speaker button, allowing Crowley to listen. Her excitement was tangible. “Please tell me you guys are free today. I have something amazing that I have to show you!”

“Erm,” Aziraphale stumbled over his words, “We would-- We would love to come and visit today! What time?”

“As soon as possible. Leave now, if you can. This is important.” She elaborated. 

“... Can it wait until after we’ve eaten our breakfast quiche? Crowley and I went through a good deal of trouble to make it.” He fretted.

“... You made a quiche?” She questioned. 

“Afraid so.” Aziraphale confirmed. 

“.... Bring some of it.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and it was settled. Crowley turned back towards the stove, damned if he’d let the shenanigans that were afoot allow him to burn their breakfast. 

~~~ 

“What do you think could possibly be so important?” Aziraphale wondered. The road buzzed underneath them, best of Queen filtering in through the speakers as Crowley drove them towards Anathema’s home. 

“I don’t know,” Crowley mumbled, idly fiddling with the sound. “She sounded pretty excited, though.” 

Aziraphale leaned forward, watching for the road. 

“Up ahead, on the left.” he instructed, pointing towards it. 

“I know where she  _ lives _ ,” Crowley responded, exasperated. 

“I was just trying to make sure you didn’t drive past it, like you did  _ last _ time.” Aziraphale pointed out. 

“I did that on purpose.” Crowley mumbled, even though both of them knew that he had not. 

The Bently pulled into her driveway and Crowley shut off the motor. Aziraphale had the quiche sitting in his lap, sectioned off and placed lovingly into tupperware. There were four pieces inside, one for each of them. If Newt wasn’t going to be home, then Aziraphale would simply leave his piece behind and he could eat it later. 

No sooner had Crowley’s door shut than the demon was by his side, pulling his open. Aziraphale stepped out of the car, shooting Crowley a sheepish look. “Thank you.”

He would love to pretend like he hadn’t done it on purpose, but he did. He quite liked it when Crowley opened the door for him. It made him feel cared for. 

And that was why Crowley did it, he supposed. 

What a wonderful friend he was. 

They walked up the sidewalk path to Anathema’s door. Crowley raised his hand to knock, but the door was pulled open before he got the chance. Anathema poked her head out, eyes wide with excitement. “What are you waiting for? Come in!”

Crowley nodded towards the inside, staying where he was. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but walked through the door first. He sensed Crowley enter the house behind him, and they both stepped aside so that Anathema could swing the door shut behind them. 

“I have quiche.” Aziraphale announced, holding up the tupperware. Anathema held out her hands, suddenly fixated on the dish. Aziraphale handed it to her, and she led them into the kitchen. 

Anathema quickly went about gathering the plates, putting a slice of quiche on each one and then lining them up so that they could be popped into the microwave.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Aziraphale questioned idly. Anathema turned, her excitement tangible as she completely forgot the food. Aziraphale was grateful that one piece was already in the microwave. The beeping would bring her back to reality.

“I think I might have figured out why angels can’t withstand hellfire and demons aren’t resistant to holy water. And how to fix it!” She announced, excitedly. 

There was a silence. Somehow, it was much louder than it was when they were speaking. The microwave went off, and Anathema turned, opening it up and switching out the plates. 

“You WHAT?” Crowley finally asked, picking his jaw up off the floor. 

“It’s science, not magic!” Anathema announced, giddily. 

“And how, exactly, did you accomplish this?” Aziraphale questioned, feeling considerably doubtful. If Anathema had figured it out, then surely  _ someone _ else would have in the six thousand years prior? There were a lot of angels and demons, and not all of them were idiots. Many of them would have given their left wing for that kind of an advantage. 

“Well, I noticed when I spilled holy water on one of Crowley’s feathers that the reaction seemed suspiciously chemical.” She elaborated. The microwave went off again behind her and she turned, retrieving the plate and replacing it with the third. She grabbed the two finished plates and brang them over to Aziraphale and Crowley, sliding them in front of the pair. Aziraphale noted smugly that she had set the warmer one in front of him, but that was neither here nor there.

“You spilled  _ holy water _ on one of my  _ feathers _ ?” Crowley asked, squinting at Anathema in displeasure. It did nothing to phase her. 

“Oh, and I assume you’re Mr. Perfect, then?” She questioned. Crowley backed right the fuck off, and Anathema continued. “But anyways, I went and put them under my microscope, and voila! There are two separate proteins present in your feathers!”

“...Okay?” Crowley said, slowly. “So?”

“So, I was able to synthesize some amino acids from the protein in Aziraphale’s feathers into yours. With the presence of those acids you had been lacking, which are used to build proteins, your feathers began producing the same proteins as Aziraphale’s alongside your own, and it was entirely resistant to holy water from that moment on. I did the same between your feathers and Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale’s feather became entirely immune to hellfire.”

“How did my feather… Produce proteins?” Crowley questioned, confused. “It was entirely separated from my body.”

Anathema looked a little guilty. “Erm. Might have tried a little bit of very  _ light _ necromancy in order to test it.”

Crowley opened his mouth to respond, but Aziraphale cut him off before this could turn into a moral debate on whether or not the feather technically constituted a  _ part of him _ if it had been brought back to life. (The answer was no, obviously). 

“... So you’ve figured out how to make our  _ wings _ immune, not  _ us _ .” Aziraphale clarified, frowning. Anathema had certainly gotten onto something important, but keeping their feathers safe hardly helped the rest of them. 

“Your wings are non-corporeal manifestations attached to your true form.” She pointed out. “They’re made of the same thing as the  _ real you _ . If they have amino acids, so does the rest of your forms. I believe treating them will make  _ both of you _ effectively immune.”

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a glance. It was a pretty solid theory, actually. After all, God had created science. Why wouldn’t she have used it in creating angels and demons?

But there was no way for them to be sure. 

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale knew that they were on the same page. They were going to let Anathema do whatever she wanted or needed to do to them, but they would  _ under no circumstances _ be testing it out any time soon. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, “You’ve got a point.”

“And that means you’ll let me try it on you?” Anathema questioned, hopefully. 

“We will  _ not _ be testing it out.” Crowley responded, firmly. Anathema’s hands drew together and she shook them rapidly, jumping up in excitement. 

“I’m  _ so excited _ ,” She exclaimed. She calmed herself then, coming back down to reality. Something real and tender and honest came across her face as she continued, “Honestly I’m just… Really happy to help pay you back. You two have done so much to protect the world and everyone in it. I want humanity to be able to offer you some protection, too.”

Aziraphale felt tears draw into his eyes. 

“Anathema, your friendship is  _ quite payment enough _ ,” He informed her, warmth radiating through his chest. 

“So,” She said, turning back towards the microwave and removing her own quiche (the timer had beeped long ago but they had all dutifully ignored it), “You two will let me introduce the amino acids to your wings after breakfast?”

“How does it work?” Crowley questioned. 

“I’ve got it reduced down to something like an oil. Just rub a little on as many of the feathers as we can reach. It seemed like with the introduction of the proteins, both of your feathers were able to start producing their own, so I think it will only have to be a one-time application. But it has only been two days, so we’ll still have to keep an eye out for that for awhile. And... I have no idea what it will feel like.”

“So it might hurt?” Crowley asked. Anathema shrugged.

“The human digestive process hurts a lot, we just get used to it. That’s our main way of processing amino acids. I’m hoping it works differently for the feathers.”

Aziraphale grimaced at the idea. 

But Anathema was  _ such _ a bright girl, and what she offered was so valuable. Before today, Aziraphale would have thought what she was proposing was impossible. She had put her time and effort into this, and Aziraphale (as doubtful as he still was) wasn’t going to let that go to waste. No pain, no gain, right?

“After quiche, then?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows at Crowley. 

“After quiche, indeed.” Crowley confirmed. 

It did not take long for them to finish. It was really quite a delicious quiche, and Anathema’s excitement was contagious. She practically inhaled her food and Crowley and Aziraphale followed. 

“Are you ready?” She asked, once plates were empty. Crowley had been the last to finish, having spent a small portion of his time watching Aziraphale eat. Aziraphale, of course, knew this, and had taken his time in order to enjoy soaking up Crowley’s attention.

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Aziraphale confirmed. Anathema stood too fast from her chair, and it shook against the floor behind her, nearly tipping over. She ignored it, plowing back into her study. 

Aziraphale and Crowley followed, with Aziraphale in the lead. 

Once he got inside, Aziraphale looked around in amazement. Anathema had every surface in this room covered in sketches, charts, bottles of potions, piles of feathers, and opened books, some occult and some science. Some of them looked relatively new, and Aziraphale wondered, “How long did it take you to  _ do this _ ?”

“I, uh…” Anathema sheepishly grinned, “Haven’t gotten a lot of sleep in the last four days.”

Crowley walked over to a pile of papers, slowly shifting one to look at the DNA sketches underneath it. Aziraphale wondered over by him, watching Crowley’s face take in the information. 

“You don’t understand a lick of that, do you?” Aziraphale questioned, amused. 

“Not a single bit.” Crowley confirmed, setting the paper back down. 

Anathema grabbed two large beakers filled with separate colored oils, bringing them over to Crowley and Aziraphale. She sat them in front of the two of them, and plucked one of Crowley’s feathers from a pile. 

“Observe.” She said, grinning. 

She dipped her fingers into the lighter of the two oils before taking her wetted fingers and running them smoothly over the feather. She closed her eyes and muttered a short incantation in latin, and Aziraphale recognized it as a necromancy spell. The feather seemed to quiver in her hands. 

She sat the feather down and repeated the process with one of Aziraphale’s own feathers, this time using the oil from the darker container. She sat Aziraphale’s feather down beside Crowley’s, and picked up the black feather again. 

Aziraphale and Crowley were at the edge of their seats. You could feel the tension bubbling in the air as both of them hoped that Anathema’s work had succeeded. 

“Alright,” Anathema said, reaching out to retrieve a vial of holy water, “Time to show you what I’m made of.”

Anathema shoved Crowley’s entire feather into the long, thin vial. Aziraphale and Crowley watched in fascination. A part of Aziraphale still expected thick, black smoke to start rolling out at any moment. 

When it became clear that that wasn’t going to happen, he clapped his hands together sharply. 

“Well  _ done,  _ Anathema!” He exclaimed, grinning gleefully. “You’ve truly outdone yourself.”

“You’ve not seen the best part.” She grinned, setting the vial with the holy water down. She retrieved Aziraphale’s feather, placing it above a small bunsen burner. Aziraphale was about to disappointedly point out that not every fire was  _ hellfire _ , but Anathema began chanting something that left an unpleasant sizzle drifting across his ears. 

Apparently, she could manifest that, too. 

At the end of her chant, she flickered the bunsen burner on. The heat in the room was all-consuming, and coming from just the little flame. There was no doubt in Aziraphale’s mind that this was, in fact, hellfire. 

And his feather sat in the center of it, completely untouched 

“Oh!” He pointed, gleefully, looking towards Crowley. “This is marvelous!”

Anathema turned off the bunsen burner, and grinned at the two of them. 

“Now, I believe that it’s time for your wings to come out, gentlemen.” She announced, walking towards the table where she had set the amino acid mixture. “Who’s going to go first?”

“I will.” Crowley said, immediately. Aziraphale felt indignation swell. 

“This could hurt!” He argued. “I should go first. That way, you’ll know what to expect when the time comes for you.”

“Why the bloody hell do you think  _ I _ volunteered?” Crowley responded. His wings came out sharply, accentuating the sentence. Aziraphale stubbornly unfolded his own, giving them a short shake. 

Anathema had already grabbed the lighter of the fluids, and was walking towards Crowley with determination. 

“He said it first.” She announced. 

Somewhere in the back of Aziraphale’s brain, he recognized that this was probably because she thought that Crowley was a top. Aziraphale felt indignance rise within him, although it probably wasn’t fair. They  _ were _ switches, and therefore he supposed that either interpretation of their topping preferences was valid. 

But it still made him a little sore to see that Anathema thought it was Crowley. 

Crowley turned towards Aziraphale and gave him a smirk. He didn’t have to speak for the message to be clear; ‘ _ Haha, I won.’  _ and then, _ ‘Also, Anathema thinks that I top. _ ’ Aziraphale decided then that he would have to do something a little devious soon, just to remind Crowley of his place. 

Anathema maneuvered her way around Crowley’s wings, until she was standing behind him. Aziraphale and Crowley seemed to realize at the same time that her touching his wings would be terribly intimate, and the air in the room shifted. 

“I, erm-- Why don’t you show me how to do that?” Aziraphale offered, taking a couple of steps back so that he stood beside Anathema, behind Crowley’s wings. “It’s considered, erm… A tad bit  _ intimate _ , to touch our wings.”

“Oh?” Anathema questioned, blinking. “And you’re comfortable doing that for him?”

“Well, you see--” Aziraphale flashed back to him and Crowley awkwardly deciding that it was okay to tell Anathema everything, and he decided that now was as good a time as ever. Besides, Crowley had seemed concerned that Aziraphale was ashamed of him, and Aziraphale wanted to make sure that Crowley knew that wasn’t true. Aziraphale decided to put it in the least delicate words possible. “We’ve been fucking.”

Crowley turned to shoot him a shocked look.

“I knew it.” She said, simply. “You two look at each other like you’ve been head over heels for the entire six-thousand years.”

Now that… That tore Aziraphale’s heart out of his chest and held it up in front of him. 

“Oh, no, it’s not like that.”  _ At least not for him _ . 

Aziraphale didn’t add on that second part. Crowley was already suspiciously silent, and Aziraphale feverishly hoped that Anathema’s words hadn’t made Crowley realize that Aziraphale  _ had _ been in love with him for quite some time. It started around the ark. He finally acknowledged it the day Crowley had given him a piece of paper with the words ‘holy water’ scrawled in spindly handwriting. 

“Then how is it?” Anathema asked, carefully.

“Well…”

And she taught him how to apply the oil while he explained the whole thing. 

~~~ 

Anathema collapsed into bed that night with a groan, satisfied and certain that she would sleep dreamlessly for many, many hours. Newton shifted beside her, delirious in his half-sleep.

“What’s got you all twisted?” He questioned, genuine worry bleeding into the words. 

Anathema spoke into her pillow. “Aziraphale and Crowley are balls-deep in love, but both of them think that it’s only fucking to the other one. They’re emotionally repressed idiots and we need to figure out a way to get them together before one of them literally dies of  _ pining _ .”

“Bloody hell.” Newton mumbled, breathlessly. “Is that why you’ve still been up? Brainstorming ways to  _ get them together _ ?”

“Yes,” She groaned, huffing a sigh into the sheets. “It’s ridiculously over-complicated.”

There was a silence, and Anathema allowed her thoughts to drift aimlessly as she carefully approached the precipice of sleep.

“... Hey, Anathema?” Newt asked, bringing her back to the present, “Aziraphale and Crowley never went to middle school, did they?”

“... No, I don’t s’pose so. Why?”

“Because I think I have an idea to get them together. But it’s very,  _ very _ middle school.” Newton told her. He let out a loud yawn. “You should ask me to tell you about it. In the morning.”

“Promise you won’t forget?” Anathema questioned, skeptically. 

“I’ll remember it for you.” Newton promised. 

And, well, that was good enough for Anathema. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the chapter with the sounding. If you aren’t down with that, you can skip this one! You’ll miss some relationship development, but no plot.

“We should practice a scene where I’m a little more dominant.” Aziraphale said. 

They had barely walked through the door.

“...What’s brought this on?” Crowley asked, curious. “Not that I’m against it, of course. Just wondering.”

Aziraphale paused for a moment. 

“When Anathema decided to handle your wings first, it was clear that she thought that you were the top in our relationship,” Aziraphale explained. His eyebrow raised, and he took a step closer to Crowley. Despite being taller than him, Crowley felt caged in. “And it seemed as though you were very satisfied with that outcome. I just think it would be best to remind you that I  _ can _ dominate.”

“You want to…” Crowley swallowed thickly, the words almost getting caught in his throat. “You want to make me submit to you? Just… Give myself over?”

The things that Aziraphale could do to him started flashing through his mind, one at a time. Glorious, they all were. Crowley’s jeans were feeling just a little too tight as the images replayed in his head, a dizzy loop of all of his wildest submission fantasies. 

“With negotiation beforehand, of course.” Aziraphale informed him. 

Crowley almost groaned. Because negotiation meant that he would have to pick between his barrage of fantasies, no longer sustaining the infinite reality where Aziraphale could do anything that he wanted to him.

Which is probably what possessed him to say, “What if I don’t want to negotiate?”

“Beg your pardon?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley flushed a bright crimson. 

“Well, we discussed blanket consent, didn’t we?” Crowley questioned, the words coming out of him faster than he would like them to. “And you have a comprehensive list of what I do and don’t want. And I have my safewords….” Crowley found himself trailing off before circling back around to his main point, “So maybe you could just…. Dowhateveryouwanttome?”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, a smirk playing at his lips. “Could you kindly repeat that?”

“Do whatever you want to me.” Crowley managed, his face bright crimson. “Have complete and total control of the scene. I won’t know about any of it beforehand.”

Aziraphale considered this for a moment. 

“Are you certain that this is something that you’re interested in?” He questioned, and Crowley just about rolled his eyes. 

“Stop worrying!” He accused, “I have a safeword!”

“If you’re certain,” Aziraphale said. 

It was then that Crowley realized he might have just been a major asshole. 

“And if you’re certain, too!” He quickly added. “I don’t want you to do it if you wouldn’t be comfortable with it. It was just an idea and I’m sure I’d have fun with plenty of other stuff and-”

Mercifully, Aziraphale cut him off. 

“Crowley,” he laughed, “It’s alright! My only concern here is for  _ your _ emotional safety. But you’re right, you have a safeword, and I’m trusting you to use it if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Crowley relaxed, feeling the tension drain out of him. He shot Aziraphale a small, guilty smile. “I trust you to take care of me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes swam with something not unlike tenderness as he gazed upon Crowley. The air between them suddenly had a charge, a charge that Crowley was more than familiar with. The  _ want _ radiating between them in waves… Something  _ more than friends _ , just out of reach. 

Through the dizzying strength of it, it took Crowley awhile to realize that his lips were buzzing. He remembered now the one thing that was off limits, the one thing that he  _ must _ be wanting right now. 

A big, sappy,  _ kiss _ . 

He turned away sharply, crossing his arms over his chest and closing himself off to the feeling. If they kissed… All of Crowley’s defenses would fall. He  _ had _ to deny himself something. If he got to have all of Aziraphale physically, he knew there would be nothing stopping him from getting greedy, from pushing for more emotionally, too. And Aziraphale didn’t want that. 

“We should do it tomorrow morning.” He requested, the sharp longing that had settled in his chest fading ever so slightly with the pivot back to sex. 

“That would be wonderful.” Aziraphale said. He leaned forward, and Crowley felt a pair of soft, chapped lips brush against his temple. His longing was replaced by a wave of  _ love _ , and he couldn’t help but relax. “I’ll be considering what I should do to you, my gorgeous little serpent.”

Crowley’s face felt as red as his hair. 

~~~

“Do you think that you’re ready?” Aziraphale questioned, the rope in his hands. Crowley nodded, his pupils blown wide. God, he wanted this. “Strip. Lay down on your back.”

Aziraphale gestured towards the bed. Crowley tore off his clothes, very nearly falling over his skinny jeans in the process. He climbed on eagerly, reveling in the simmering  _ anticipation _ he felt. Aziraphale had some things lined up on the bedside table, a thin purple sheet laid delicately over them. He must have wanted Crowley’s complete shock, which was… Well, hot as fuck. 

Crowley laid his bare back against the soft sheets and Aziraphale grabbed one of his wrists, pinning it up above his head. Aziraphale’s fingers were firm, insistent, demanded that Crowley obey. The rope rubbed softly against his skin as Aziraphale looped it over twice, making sure that the tie was sufficiently thick enough to be comfortable. 

Crowley felt his power dampen, bound down by the tie. Aziraphale attached it to the bed post, and he gave an experimental tug. It was secure. 

Aziraphale quickly repeated the procedure on the other side, securing Crowley’s other hand. His powers were now as useless as they could get, and he shivered at the feeling of being completely at his Angel’s mercy. 

“Now that I’m tied up,” He teased, “I suppose that I’m completely at your mercy.”

“Not quite yet.” Aziraphale grinned a devilish grin, and Crowley realized that he still had two more bundles of rope. These two weren’t made to dampen his powers, but, well… they didn’t need to. 

Crowley let out a small sound as Aziraphale grabbed his ankle, pulling it towards the corner of the bed. Those agile fingers worked the binds into another knot, quickly securing it to the foot of the bed. He repeated his motions with the other side, and Crowley felt himself become really and truly trapped. 

He gulped, tugging weakly at his restraints. He  _ really _ couldn’t get out of these, no matter how hard he tried. 

His cock gave a twitch, already hard. 

Aziraphale walked up, tenderly laying a hand on Crowley’s face. He stroked his thumb softly across the demon’s lips, which sent Crowley’s thoughts careening towards when he had wanted to kiss Aziraphale last night. 

Breaking himself free of that thought, Crowley quickly ducked his forked tongue out, licking lightly across the pad of Aziraphale’s thumb. He  _ watched _ the hunger grow in his angel’s eyes, saw the moment when his control faltered. 

Crowley’s brain helpfully supplied a fantasy in which Aziraphale climbed up onto the bed and fucked his face until he came down his throat. 

“Wily serpent,” Aziraphale scolded, pulling his hand away. Crowley grinned, unable to stop the pride he felt at having caused this reaction. “You won’t be changing my plans. You said you wanted me to do whatever I wanted to you, right?”

“Y--Yes.” Crowley swallowed. “Please.” 

“Then I’ll be  _ doing things to you _ .”

Crowley’s cock twitched again. Fuck, this was going to be about  _ him _ . 

Aziraphale turned, bending down and digging through his bondage equipment. The things he hadn’t already brought out at the beginning were still in the box. He shuffled things around for a moment, and Crowley found himself twisting his neck in order to try and see what Aziraphale was doing. 

It wasn’t long before the angel came back, a blindfold in his hands. Crowley stared at it blankly for a moment. 

Oh. Oh  _ fuck _ . 

“I think this seems appropriate.” Aziraphale said, walking back over towards the bed. The cool, silky material of the blindfold was dragged slowly, agonizingly across Crowley’s already too-hot skin. “Don’t you?”

“Hnnng,” Crowley responded. Aziraphale let out a small laugh, raising his hands and settling the blindfold across Crowley’s eyes. Without being asked, he raised his head up, happy that he’d gone with short hair for the day as Aziraphale’s fingers tied a flat knot. Once he was finished, Crowley let his head fall back down with a soft flop. 

“Good boy.” Aziraphale praised, gently. Crowley’s stomach flipped, and he squirmed at the praise as it flushed hot against his skin. “So  _ obedient _ .”

Crowley’s brain was starting to get hazy, his body still very firmly rooted in the reality of his binds. He could feel every sensation against his skin acutely as he waited for Aziraphale’s next move, waited to be touched. 

He imagined Aziraphale removing the purple cloth from the bed-side table, and found that he had been correct when he heard a soft jingle. Crowley shifted, curiosity perking up. What could that be?

Aziraphale put some weight on the bed as he leaned over Crowley’s body, his breath ghosting across Crowley’s chest. Crowley shivered as the warm air caressed his sensitive nipple. He bit his lip harshly to keep from whimpering, from  _ pleading _ with Aziraphale to  _ touch him already _ , because he felt  _ too damn hot _ . 

He could have discorporated right then and there when he felt the warmth of Aziraphale’s tongue across his nipple. His back arched off the bed without his permission, hands tugging helplessly at their binds as if to card through Aziraphale’s hair. 

“Patience is a virtue.” Aziraphale reminded him, pulling back from his skin. 

“Fuck your virtue.” Crowley said, panting. Aziraphale let out a soft chuckle, and the sound of it went straight to Crowley’s cock. Oh, he was going to be in for a  _ ride _ with this one. 

Aziraphale’s fingers brushed over where his lips had just been, bringing Crowley’s nipple to full erectness. He heard a bell jingle again and gasped as he felt a tight pressure around his nipple. Heat flooded to his face. 

“Nipple clamps?” He asked. Aziraphale’s hand fell away, but the pressure didn’t. It was borderline painful in the most delicious way. Crowley shifted, and he felt the bell rolling against his chest. He realized then that it was attached to the clamp. 

Crowley didn’t get a verbal answer.

Aziraphale’s mouth gave his other nipple the same attention, and Crowley groaned wantonly as he felt himself stimulated. As soon as Aziraphale’s mouth left him, his fingers were there, just rough enough with the little nub of flesh that Crowley squirmed, setting the bell on the clamp off. Aziraphale then attached the second one, and both of Crowley’s nipples were being held erect, pleasure-pain radiating through them. 

“Please,” Crowley said, his voice husky. He said it before he even considered what he was asking for. 

“Please  _ what _ ?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley felt a hand tease up along his thigh and he tensed, a strangled cry coming from his mouth as a wave of  _ want _ swam through him. Fuck, he wanted this. He  _ needed _ this. Whatever ‘this’ was going to be. 

“Do  _ something _ ,” Crowley begged. 

Aziraphale leaned down, his lips pressing into soft flesh by Crowley’s rib cage. Crowley realized with a start that Aziraphale was sucking, his teeth grazing lightly over the skin as his hand skittered around Crowley’s upper thighs and lower stomach, carefully avoiding his crotch. 

Aziraphale finished sucking, and Crowley felt certain that there was a deep, purple mark blossoming across his skin. He blushed at the thought. Aziraphale was leaving marks, little signs of his possession. Crowley whined in frustration as Aziraphale moved down another couple of inches and began sucking another mark into his skin.

Aziraphale did this for what  _ genuinely _ felt like ages. He worked his way back up Crowley’s body, leaving dark purple marks in his wake. He sucked one directly into Crowley’s neck as Crowley  _ shook _ , imagining people seeing it, seeing that Aziraphale had been taking what was his. 

He worked his way back down. Crowley knew he had to have a dozen softly blooming bruises by the time Aziraphale pulled off of his skin. He shuddered, lost in the sensation as he gave into Aziraphale’s control. 

“You’re being so good.” Aziraphale praised. Crowley felt a pleasant tingle shoot through his body at the praise. 

“Am I gonna get a reward?” Crowley asked, unable to ignore his throbbing cock. Aziraphale thought for a moment, and Crowley’s hips thrust upwards of their own accord as Aziraphale’s hand suddenly wrapped around his dick. Crowley didn’t have to see Aziraphale’s smug smile to know that it was there. 

He gave Crowley’s cock a few too-soft pumps. Crowley tried to contain himself. 

“I suppose that depends.” Aziraphale said, lightly. “We aren’t done yet, Dearest.”

And with that, Aziraphale’s hands disappeared off of his body. Crowley couldn’t help the needy whine that bubbled out of him. 

“Can’t we speed this along?”

“I  _ know _ you’re enjoying this just as much as I am.” Aziraphale countered. Crowley didn’t try to argue. “Besides,” Aziraphale continued, “I don’t think you’ve actually broken yet. You don’t need it that bad. This? This is a defense mechanism. You’re begging before you  _ really _ want it so you won’t get to that point. But Crowley, Dearest,” Aziraphale was doing  _ something _ off to the side of the bed, and Crowley heard the distinctive sound of a match being struck, “I don’t think I’m going to let you off so easily.”

Crowley realized with a dawning fear that Aziraphale was really and totally correct. He was nowhere near his breaking point. And… 

And Crowley realized with a twisted satisfaction that Aziraphale was going to take him there. 

“It smells like smoke.” He commented, his head feeling hazy. Aziraphale came closer, the sound of his footsteps sounding louder in Crowley’s ears than they had before. 

“Not much longer, Darling. This melts fast.” Aziraphale said, softly. Crowley felt a quick kiss pressed to his stomach, and he groaned as his cock gave an interested twitch. 

Crowley wasn’t  _ not _ expecting it, but it still came as a shock when the warm wax hit his skin. 

His upper thigh burned pleasantly, the warm liquid sliding across his skin as it slowly became tepid. It didn’t re-harden; these were soy candles, and they turned into massage oil once they had been melted. Crowley had seen one of them among Aziraphale’s things. 

Suddenly, a sharp sting hit the middle of his chest, and he moved, curving upwards, as if asking for more. He received, Aziraphale dripping the wax further down, along his stomach. 

Suddenly, the heat was at his collar bone. Crowley hissed in shock, but immediately bared his neck, a sign of submission. Aziraphale gave an approving hum, and Crowley heard the sound of the candle being blown out. 

Aziraphale’s hands were on his skin. 

He was rubbing small circles into Crowley’s collar bone, distributing the massage oil. The sensation of Aziraphale’s steady hands kneading into his skin sent another wave of lust through Crowley, who viciously hoped that Aziraphale would break and give him what he wanted soon. 

“Lower, Aziraphale.” He requested, trying his luck. 

Aziraphale’s hands drifted lower, and Crowley couldn’t  _ believe _ that that had actually worked. 

Except, it hadn’t. 

Aziraphale’s hands stopped at his hip bones, rubbing massage oil in there. Crowley’s hips buckled, his member ruthlessly ignored as Aziraphale continued to touch him, every firm swipe of his fingers over Crowley’s skin magnified by the loss of his sight. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed. “You look simply divine. Absolutely scrumptious. I could just… eat you up.” 

Aziraphale’s breath ghosted across his cock, and Crowley’s heart stopped. 

“Please,” He said, helplessly tugging at his restraints. Fuck, finally. He was going to get what he-

Aziraphale shifted away, and Crowley felt the loss land  _ heavy _ . God, how long could Aziraphale possibly keep this up?

Crowley knew the answer. Until he felt that he had sufficiently taken Crowley apart. No matter how long that took. 

Aziraphale was gone again, the oil having been massaged into Crowley’s skin (with the exception of his thigh, but Crowley was honestly grateful for the small miracles right about now). He heard the sound of a zipper, and a lube cap was popped open. Crowley listened, intrigued.

Aziraphale returned to the side of the bed, and his hand was warm on Crowley’s cock as he gave it a few quick strokes. Crowley groaned, relief flooding through his body at the touch. He relaxed, sinking into the bed. 

Aziraphale stopped, his hand at the base of Crowley’s cock, holding it still. Aziraphale placed something cool and smooth against the tip of his cock. Crowley knew immediately that he’d brought out the sounding kit.

“Color?” Aziraphale asked, softly. 

“Green!” Crowley responded, enthusiastically. The excitement of doing something that was fully foreign to him was  _ definitely _ intriguing. And besides… Aziraphale  _ was _ going to be penetrating him, just in a different way. He wanted Aziraphale to do whatever he wanted, and the fact that he’d picked something so  _ taboo _ had Crowley feeling absolutely undone. 

Aziraphale began to push the sound in, very slowly. 

It slipped into his urethra. Crowley tensed, and Aziraphale stopped. He forced himself to relax, reminding himself that he needed to let Aziraphale in. Tensing would only make this painful. 

Crowley felt the inside of him being softly stroked by the rod as Aziraphale slowly worked it down inside him, pulling up a little before plunging down deeper than it had gone before. It felt… highly  _ sensual _ . Crowley was becoming aware of a million new nerve endings all at once, and all of them were singing for him. 

He loved the feeling of Aziraphale using his body like this, doing whatever he wanted to Crowley’s cock…

“You look so beautiful.” Aziraphale commented, softly. Crowley gave a soft whine as the sound reached the base of his cock, and Aziraphale stopped there. He let it sit, and Crowley could feel his eyes on him, knew that Aziraphale was admiring his handiwork. “Do you want me to take off your blindfold? So you can watch?”

“YES!” Crowley blurted, his dick twitching at the suggestion. Aziraphale chuckled and leaned forward, his hands leaving Crowley’s cock to sit against his stomach while he untied the knot behind Crowley’s head. Crowley blinked several times, his vision blurry as the world slowly came back into focus. 

Aziraphale’s face was the first thing he gave his attention to. 

Aziraphale’s pupils were blown wide, his hair messy. He had unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt, which was wrinkled. The lightest flush ghosted across his cheeks as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Crowley’s chest. Crowley shifted up into it, causing his nipple clamps to rattle.

“Aziraphale,” He said, his words coming out ragged, “Please… Please, do something.”

Crowley felt so full. And now? Now, he could  _ see. _ He could see the thin metal rod sticking out of the tip of his cock, see how Aziraphale had totally and completely explored him, exploring parts of him nobody had ever explored before. 

He  _ needed _ release,  _ needed _ to cum. He’d been stroked and sucked and rubbed and clamped and  _ fuck _ he  _ fucking needed to cum. _

“I will, Dear,” Aziraphale commented, slowly beginning to kiss his way down Crowley’s body. Crowley felt desperation claw its way into his chest and he tugged at his ropes,  _ hard _ , his hips bucking up to find mild friction against Aziraphale’s clothes. 

Aziraphale grinned, and Crowley knew what he had to do. 

“Please,” He begged, his voice shaking. “Aziraphale, Angel, please. I need to cum. P-Please let me.”

He could feel that his face was hot with shame, and somehow, that made him even hornier. Because God hated him, probably. (Though come to think of it, he.. Highly doubted that she had a direct hand in this particular instance).

“In just a moment,” Aziraphale responded. Crowley felt tears of frustration sting at his eyes as he fully gave himself over to the all-consuming want, now crashing over him in waves. 

“Please, Zira, I can’t wait.” Crowley begged, speaking too fast. Aziraphale was kissing a line down his chest, one of his hands coming up to tweak the left nipple clamp. Aziraphale grinned at Crowley as he took it off, and Crowley felt a rush of  _ sensation _ as the pressure was removed. “Aziraphale, I need you. I need you, Angel.”

Crowley really should shut up now, but he can’t. 

Aziraphale closed that sinful mouth of his around his sensitive nipple, and Crowley’s cock felt too hot, too close. “‘M so close already.”

“Well, you’d better not.” Aziraphale warned, pulling away from Crowley’s nipple. Crowley felt another hot wave of lust crash over him as he resolved to be good, to do what Aziraphale asked of him… To let Aziraphale have whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted with his body. 

Aziraphale blew a soft, cool breeze at Crowley’s too-sensitive nipple, his other hand coming up to undo the second clamp. 

This was the point where Crowley’s babbling turned from ‘nearly incoherent’ to ‘completely incoherent’.

“Zira!” He whined. The rope was starting to sting against his wrists from where he had fought against it, and he forced his arms to go limp. “Zira, zira…. Please…. M’hot…. Too warm…. You’re… Ah!”

Aziraphale pulled off of his other nipple, and he looked slightly concerned. 

“Color?” He asked, softly.

“Green,” Crowley managed. He wanted-- God, he  _ wanted _ .

Aziraphale returned to his previous occupation of kissing down Crowley’s body  _ again _ , giving his most delicate skin little licks and nips along the way. Crowley’s face felt wet.

Crowley realized belatedly that his tears of frustration had turned into  _ actual tears _ , which was why Aziraphale had likely checked in to make sure that he was okay. 

“Zira,” He begged, “Please. Be so good. Need. Please.”

In the garden, Crowley had been a predator. He’d tempted Eve into eating the apple, slithered up beside Aziraphale and tempted him into a chat. He’d tempted Zira many times since then, enticing him with earthly pleasures and selfishly soaking up any attention the angel would give him. Crowley’s life had been spent tempting humans, convincing them to lie, cheat, and manipulate each other. Crowley had been a predator. From the beginning. 

Looking into Aziraphale’s lusty eyes as he completely took Crowley apart made him realize that he hadn’t been the only one. 

“What do you need?” Aziraphale questioned, innocently pressing a kiss against the top of Crowley’s thigh. His eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Please!” Crowley whimpered, unable to respond any other way. He needed…. He needed….

“Alright,” Aziraphale relented, “Since you asked so nicely.”

He sat up again, on his knees as he grabbed Crowley’s cock in one hand and the sound in the other. He gave a few light tugs to the sound, just enough stimulation to remind Crowley to think about it. 

Aziraphale’s hand began to slowly pump his cock, and Crowley’s whole body felt like a live wire. 

Somehow, this was even  _ worse _ than being denied. It felt so fucking good, so fucking  _ right _ , he could barely take in all of the senses that were cascading through him. He felt Aziraphale’s hand moving steadily against his cock, setting a brutally slow pace. He could feel the sound rubbing deliciously against his walls as Aziraphale moved around him. He could feel his own heart beating, a throb in his still-sensitive nipples, could see the love-bites Aziraphale had left along his skin. 

Crowley had never felt so helpless.

“I’m close,” He said, barely able to utter the words through his tightly-closed teeth. Aziraphale seemed to understand, but his pace didn’t change. It was  _ agonizing.  _

It wasn’t so much  _ bringing _ Crowley to the edge as giving him convoluted directions on how to get to the edge, firm in the knowledge that once Crowley arrived the journey will have been worth it and the  _ real _ orgasm will have been the friends he made along the way. 

He groaned as the sensations trickled through him, filling him, making him feel more than he’d ever felt before. He was certain that Aziraphale had to have miracled more nerves than he’d previously had, just so he could stimulate every fucking one of them. The hand on his dick kept pumping steady, Aziraphale watching, breathing deeply as he lightly held the sound in Crowley’s cock with his free hand. 

Crowley felt overstimulated in all the right ways. Aziraphale had thoroughly broken him. 

“Faster,” He begged, “Please, Zira. ‘M  _ so fucking close _ , let me cum.”

“You’re going to cum.” Aziraphale responded, gently. “You’re doing so good, Crowley. So wonderful. You’re taking this so well. So beautiful, so obedient. I’ll get you there. You  _ deserve _ it.”

Crowley felt a rush of relief wash through him at the words like a breath of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and his balls tightened up. 

“F--FUCK!” He sputtered. 

Aziraphale waited until the perfect moment and suddenly pulled the sound out. The buildup of pressure meant that Crowley came  _ hard _ , seeing stars as he spasmed, feeling the orgasm rush through him head to toe. His cock kept twitching after he was already done, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. God, he was so damn  _ sensitive. _

When it seemed that it had indeed finally passed, Aziraphale leaned forward, nuzzling Crowley tenderly under the chin. 

“I meant it,” He said, softly. “You deserved this.”

Crowley was grateful that his face was already wet. 

“Would you like me to untie you?” Aziraphale questioned. 

“Yeah.” Crowley responded. He doubted that he would be able to move his jello-limbs right now, but he didn’t want to have to deal with the idea of Aziraphale untying them later. 

Aziraphale rose, sliding off of the bed and starting with Crowley’s feet. He worked methodically, one limb at a time, until Crowley was free. Every limb he freed, Aziraphale would pause, making sure to rub blood flow back into the extremities. 

“Can you cuddle me?” Crowley asked, waves of euphoria still clouding his judgement. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he would be embarrassed that he asked for this tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“Of course!” Aziraphale said, sounding overjoyed. “Just let me put the sound away, Darling. I’ll be right there.”

True to his word, Crowley felt Aziraphale slide into the bed mere moments later. Crowley turned to his side to make room for the angel. Aziraphale scooted up behind him. Warm arms wrapped around Crowley and pulled him close. 

A soft miracle cleaned his body of sweat and cum, and he felt warm and comfortable in the arms of his angel. 

“Do…” He wiggled back, feeling Aziraphale’s hard-on pressed against his ass, “Do you want me to do something about that?”

“This was about you.” Aziraphale said, firmly. “I’ll ride it out. Shouldn’t last much longer.”

“Won’t last  _ any _ longer if you let me give you a handjob.” Crowley mumbled. 

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale said, chuckling. He pulled Crowley tighter against his chest, and Crowley wished that Aziraphale’s clothes weren’t separating them. He sighed, his head falling back until he was flush with Aziraphale’s chin. He pressed upwards softly as Aziraphale placed a hand gently over Crowley’s heart. 

He could feel the moment take on some kind of significance as he felt Aziraphale’s fingers against his skin, listening to his pulse. 

“You’ve always been so good,” Aziraphale said, softly. 

“So have you.” Crowley reminded him, firmly.

Aziraphale laughed, his legs curling in further, holding Crowley as close as he possibly could. 

And it didn’t matter that Aziraphale was still in clothes, or that Crowley couldn’t kiss him, or that whatever this was, Crowley was always going to want more. It didn’t matter because in that moment, he felt closer to Aziraphale than he ever had before. 

When the haze of endorphins and warmth of his partner finally carried him off to sleep, he dreamed of alpha centauri. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment! <3


	13. Chapter 13

When there was a knock on the door, Aziraphale didn’t think much of it. 

They were lounging in the living room, Aziraphale’s feet across Crowley’s lap. The TV blathered on in the background while Aziraphale tried to focus on his eleventh read through of  _ The Canterbury Tales _ . Crowley was watching the cooking channel, and Aziraphale fervently hoped it would inspire him to make some lunch. 

It was warm in the apartment. They always kept it warm for Crowley. His serpentine nature made it difficult for him to function in the cold, and Aziraphale found it quite cozy. 

“I’ll get it.” Crowley mumbled, tapping Aziraphale’s feet. Aziraphale moved, his eyes remaining fixed on his novel as Crowley stood. He paused the television before he went to answer it. 

There were several loud steps, and Crowley came running back to Aziraphale. “Shit, fuck, fuck, Aziraphale!”

“What?” He asked, quite annoyed at having to put down his book for what was likely to be a Jehova’s witness. Crowley had reacted similarly before. 

“It’s Gabriel again!” Crowley declared. He turned on his heels, sprinting down the stairs. 

He allowed himself only a moment of panic before reminding himself that he had prepared for this. Aziraphale stood, immediately walking towards the door as he straightened his shirt, re-tucking it into his pants. He spared a quick glance at his hair in the magnetic mirror he had stuck to the fridge for just that purpose as he passed by. He didn’t look messy, but he wasn’t exactly  _ presentable _ , either. 

He swung open the door, hoping he looked composed. 

“Come for a demon update?”

Gabriel stood outside, a big grin on his stupid face. “Not exactly.”

Aziraphale felt a flash of concern. If Gabriel  _ wasn’t _ here to check up on Crowley, there must be some other forces at work. Surely Hell wouldn’t try for another apocalypsn’t so soon after the first had failed?

“Oh,” He said, lightly. Gabriel stood patiently, blinking those uncharacteristically blank eyes up at Aziraphale. He was waiting for something. Aziraphale realized what it was, and he stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture. “Please do come in.”

Gabriel stepped inside, looking idly at the layout. There were a few things now that marked this apartment as homey. The books at the end of the couch, for one. The pair of crumpled socks in the corner of the living room that Crowley had been too lazy to put in the laundry bin. The touchscreen phone that Crowley had, which gave a soft buzz on the couch. A couple of board games were shoved under the glass-topped table. You could see their colorful patterns, slightly blurred. 

Aziraphale all at once felt worried that this did  _ not _ look like someplace he conducted business, but instead, someplace he  _ lived _ . 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Aziraphale questioned. He wanted to move further than the entry hallway where they currently stood, but he couldn’t force his legs to cooperate. He was too anxious. And he honestly didn’t much care to share their home with the cruelest archangel he knew. 

Gabriel glanced around, taking in the sights. He turned back towards Aziraphale, his face a careful mask of displeasure. 

“There have been some odd energetic reports from this area.” He responded. “Tadfield area, to be more precise. Some old magic. Probably nothing; a skimpy little cult who got their hands on something real, or some kid who found a book and thought witchcraft would bring back Rover.” Aziraphale processed this as Gabriel continued, “Either way, we’d like you to investigate.”

Aziraphale prayed that his face didn’t give him away. He had never been particularly good at hiding his thoughts, especially not from Gabriel. 

_ Anathema _ . 

She had been doing a wide range of magical activities in her quest for angelic and demonic bindings.

“Yes, of course.” He agreed, immediately. “Any other information on the case?”

“There’s a surprisingly wide range of information being tested. We’re guessing it’s from a book that compiled several other known sources, since the resources it would require to gather this kind of information separately would be astronomical.” Gabriel continued. Aziraphale cursed Agnes Nutter for telling her children to invest in Apple. “So we’d like the book given to heaven, if you find it. We want to dispose of it.”

“That would be very smart.” Aziraphale agreed, nodding curtly. 

They stared at each other awkwardly as Aziraphale waited for Gabriel to announce his leave. His fingers were already twitching towards his phone. 

Their stare-down grew in intensity. Gabriel glanced around his home once again, and Aziraphale worried that he might have to actually come up with an excuse to get him to leave. Just as he was about to say something, Gabriel blissfully interrupted.

“Welp, I’ve got important things to do upstairs.” Gabriel announced, clapping his hands together. “It’s been nice seeing you. Keep up the good work!”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale said. “I’ll update you on the strange ritual energy sometime in the next little while.”

He squeezed past Gabriel to open the door for him, knowing that Gabriel wasn’t going to open it himself. 

Actually, now that he thought about it, he realized that he’d only ever seen Sandalphon open doors for him. Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure that Gabriel even knew how to open a door. He might have miracled them open when nobody was looking. Not that Aziraphale ever would have asked. 

“I’ll be awaiting your report!” Gabriel informed him, lifting a hand up and giving a little wave. 

Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. 

The door shut, Aziraphale waited a few moments before he sighed, relief coursing through his body. He turned, and puttered back over towards the stairs leading into the basement. He raised his voice, “You can untie yourself, Dearest. Gabriel is gone.”

There was a silence, and a bit of shuffling, and Aziraphale waited for his demon to come sauntering up the stairs. 

Instead, Crowley said, “Um. I really can’t.”

“What?” Aziraphale questioned, confusion causing his brows to pull together. 

“I… Absolutely did not tie this right. I’m gonna need you to help untangle me.” Crowley responded. Aziraphale felt a soft smile spread across his face. 

“I’ll be down in just a moment.” He said. 

First, he needed to send a quick text to Anathema. 

Whatever she was doing, she would probably need to stop. 

~~~ 

Gabriel walked down the stairs of Crowley’s apartment and back towards the sidewalk. He turned, his eyes squinting in the too-bright sunlight as he searched for the cab that he had come in. 

He located it, taking a few steps towards its doors, when he saw something peculiar. 

An identical black car pulled up across the street. He recognized the symbol from the cab company closest to the heavenly gates, and he wondered whether or not someone else had accidentally been assigned to speak to Aziraphale as well. Gabriel could see how the mix-up could have happened, since he had volunteered for this personally. He might as well stay a couple of extra seconds, save some poor lackey from wasting his (or her!) time. 

The door opened, and Gabriel watched Beelzebub rise from the back seat. Immediately, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. 

Beelzebub looked towards the demon’s lair and Gabriel watched with fascination as they crossed the street. 

It occurred to him then that Beelzebub themself was probably attempting to stop Aziraphale from continuing his heavenly duties with the demon Crowley. And Gabriel wasn’t about to let that happen; not when Aziraphale was  _ just _ beginning to show signs of the ruthless leadership that was expected of him. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He said. Beelzebub’s eyes snapped towards him, and Gabriel gave a little wave. 

They stared at each other in silence until ‘uncomfortable’ had already come and went. Beelzebub was the one to break it. 

“If you’ve come to take back your little angel, it’s likely too late. He’s too far gone. Practically a docile little  _ pet _ , now.” Beelzebub sneered. Gabriel felt a million emotions hit him at once. Confusion, disorientation, realization, disbelief, betrayal, anger, resignation and finally, acceptance. It had to have been one hell of a face journey. 

“Funny you should say that,” Gabriel said, his lips tight. “I was about to say the same for your demon friend.”

Beelzebub’s face, to their credit, remained mostly neutral. The only sign that they had indeed heard what Gabriel had said was the quirk in their eyebrow. 

“Sounds like we’ve been getting fed some differing stories.” Beelzebub said. Gabriel nodded solemnly. 

He glanced back towards the house. He really should have expected this. Aziraphale, the angel who had spent far too long on earth, had made a very  _ human _ mistake. Lying to his superiors, keeping secrets. Gabriel wasn’t sure what  _ for _ , exactly, but he was going to find out. And then, he was going to tear Aziraphale’s wings off himself.

It didn’t seem like Aziraphale and Crowley had noticed their mistake yet, their fatal error. Gabriel didn’t want them to. He didn’t want them to have the opportunity to make an escape. He wanted to reign down the fury of heaven unfettered by an excruciating game of hide and go seek. 

“How about we head somewhere a little more private, just the two of us?” Gabriel proposed, looking back towards Beelzebub. Beelzebub grinned. “I’m sure that we can piece this whole thing together over a nice cup of tea.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Beelzebub responded. 

Gabriel opened the door of his cab, and gestured inside. 

Beelzebub walked the short distance towards him and hunkered down, sliding over the cool leather and into the back driver’s side seat. Gabriel got in afterwards, batting at a random fly. 

“Don’t do that.” Beelzebub told him, firmly. 

Gabriel hoped that whatever this was, it would be worth it. 

~~~ 

“So,” Anathema said, sipping her cup of morning coffee, “Your big idea last night. Care to share?”

Newton blinked up at her before rubbing his eyes with his hands, trying to rid himself of the lingering sleep. “What idea?”

Anathema sighed, shaking her head. Of  _ course _ he had forgotten. She should have made him write it down, before she had fallen asleep. She supposed that he could very well have the same idea  _ again _ , but guessed it would probably take longer to come this time. Newton produced his best ideas right on the verge of sleep.

“Your idea for getting Crowley and Aziraphale together.” She reminded him. “They’re obviously in love. And doing a lot of shagging, might I add.”

Anathema had shamelessly dug out a few of the juicier details. She  _ did _ remember giving them that rope, after all. And what could she say, she was a little curious. Her sex life with Newton was pleasant, but… Well, it could  _ never _ hurt to spice things up, yeah?

“Oh! Right.” Newton said, remembering their conversation. Anathema glanced up at him in surprise, hoping against hope that he had remembered his idea last night. His brows furrowed as he tried to remember. 

“You had said that it was very middle school.” She reminded him, hoping that it might job something. 

Anathema waited while the cogs in Newton’s head turned. She not-so-subtly pushed his cup of coffee towards him, and he gratefully took a swig. 

“What are you thinking?” She asked, unable to wait any longer. 

She heard her phone go off on the counter, the vibration ringing out against the wood harshly. She let it go, knowing that this was probably more important. 

Finally, a spark of recognition lit in Newt’s eye. 

“Okay,” He said, excitedly. “I think I’ve got it. You say they like each other, yeah? You’re one hundred percent certain about that?”

“One hundred percent doesn’t even  _ begin _ to cover it.” Anathema confirmed. 

“Right, well…” Newton grinned. “Remember in middle school, when your friend would tell a friend who would tell your crush that you liked them?”

“I was homeschooled my entire life because I was the sworn protector of an ancient text my great-great-great-great-grandmother left behind. So, um. No. I have never even set foot in a middle school.” Anathema reminded him. Newton blushed at his mistake. 

“Oh, sorry. My bad. Well, it’s fairly normal for that sort of thing to happen in middle school. Your crush finds out you like them from someone else.”

“...Your point is?” Anathema questioned, still not having it sink in. How would that help them? They couldn’t exactly disguise Crowley and Aziraphale as angsty preteens and send them off.

“We separate them.” Newton told her, “You take Crowley, and I take Aziraphale, because I have no idea how to talk to Crowley-”

“-That’s because you’re too nervous, I promise he likes you!”

“-And,” Newton continued, undeterred by her interruption, “We tell them each that the other one told us in private they’re head over heels in love.”

Anathema took a moment to consider what Newton had said. 

She wouldn’t have been able to do it if she was any less than one hundred percent certain that they were in love with each other. She was, technically, taking the risk that the emotional feelings were only one-sided. But she was so,  _ so _ certain… 

“You know,” She smiled, deviously, “I always knew there was a reason I kept you around. You’re a genius.” 

Newton smiled bashfully, not used to being praised for his intelligence since most of his life had been spent breaking computers beyond repair. “Thanks. But I know there are still some kinks in the plan.”

“Oh,” Anathema said, nodding, “You don’t know the  _ half  _ of the kinks.”

~~~

Aziraphale had waited long enough. He decided to call Anathema. 

The phone rang, and he tapped his foot before pacing restlessly. Crowley put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop. 

“Hey,” He said, softly. “Calm down.”

Crowley’s eyes were soft and his hand was warm and Aziraphale sighed, giving into the temptation, allowing himself to relax. 

The phone rang straight through, and he huffed softly to himself, frustrated. He waited until the beep, and decided that a message was better than nothing. 

“Oh, Hello, Anathema! It’s me, Aziraphale,” He glanced over towards Crowley, wondering whether or not he was doing this whole ‘voice-mail’ thing correctly. Crowley offered him two encouraging thumbs up. “I just wanted to talk about some things. Heaven has been noticing a strange amount of occult activity from tadfield, and I think we should devise a good strategy for misleading them. Do call back. Do  _ not _ perform any magic, if you can help it.”

Aziraphale ended the call, and he stared down at the screen of his phone for a little while, as if magically willing it to receive a call back from her. 

It didn’t. 

Crowley, in the mean time, plucked his own phone from the counter. Aziraphale shoved his in his pocket.

“What is it?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley looked back up sharply, as if startled. He quickly regained his composure, but was unable to keep a small frown from his face. 

“Oh, it’s just…” His frown deepened, “Beelzebub texted me that they were coming over to assign me to investigate an influx of magic in Tadfield.” 

“Oh  _ no, _ ” Aziraphale said, realization dawning. 

“And then they texted back that something had come up, but they would miracle me the files they have on it later.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good?” Aziraphale said, tentatively. “If they’re asking you to take care of it, that means that they aren’t.”

“Yet.” Crowley pointed out. Stubbornly, Aziraphale had to agree. 

“Yes.” He said, “We really need to get ahold of her. She needs to stop doing magic immediately, fly under the radar for a little while.”

“Odd that both heaven and hell would take notice.” Crowley said, suspiciously. 

“...It’s probably my fault.” Aziraphale realized. “That ancient text I gave her had angel  _ and _ demon magic in it. She likely would have been fine if she had stuck with what she had.”

“Hey, hey.” Crowley said. Aziraphale felt warm hands cupping his face and he looked up, meeting Crowley’s  _ devastatingly handsome _ eyes. “Don’t blame yourself, Angel. S’not that big of a deal, anyways. We’ll just have to make sure Anathema knows not to do any more magic at her place for a little while. Theory, not practice.”

“Theory, not practice.” Aziraphale repeated. 

But he couldn’t really remember what they were talking about in the first place. 

Because Crowley’s hands were deliciously soft against his face, and Aziraphale could imagine him closing his eyes, leaning down… Pressing those soft, demonic lips to his own with a kind of gentleness that would make Aziraphale shiver, make him hungry for more. 

Crowley suddenly looked away, a blush evident on his cheeks. Aziraphale felt guilt flare up, realizing that he had made Crowley uncomfortable. He fervently hoped that his thoughts hadn’t been too far obvious just then. He would be positively  _ mortified _ . 

Aziraphale was trying to figure out how to apologize when his phone went off. He dug it out of his pocket, relief flooding through him when Anathema’s name came up on the screen. He could deal with apologizing to Crowley later. 

He pressed accept, and raised the phone to his ear. 

“Hello, Anathema!” He greeted, “We have a bit of a problem.”

~~~ 

“So what you’re saying,” The archangel Gabriel’s voice was low as he leaned towards Beelzebub in the dimly lit coffee shop, “Is that our boy Aziraphale has been acting as your demon’s personal fucktoy?”

“Seemed like he liked it, too.” Beelzebub said. “And I think we both know why they’ve been lying to us.”

Gabriel knew. He  _ knew _ that Aziraphale was granting that stubborn demon mercy for some reason. Demons didn’t deserve mercy, in Gabriel’s opinion. 

“They think they love each other.” Gabriel responded. “Thought they could pull a fast one over both of us to spend  _ time _ together. Got themselves in a real  _ two dates to the prom _ type situation.” 

He had been watching a little bit of situational comedy on earth, recently. It was something to pass the time, something to teach him a little bit about human culture. Gabriel felt like he should know, so he could explain to any humans he spoke to  _ why _ they were inferior and worthless. 

“We need to act on this quickly.” Beelzebub said, in a hushed tone. “If we let them realize that we’re onto them, they’ll make it far more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I have today free.” Gabriel said, flippantly. “And I can have half of the heavenly host here quicker than I can snap my fingers, if need be.”

“We’ll need to take them at the same time,” Beelzebub strategized, “Maybe keep them together the whole way. Threaten to hurt one if the other gets out of line. That sort of thing.”

“I think you’re onto something.” Gabriel said. He felt his tongue burn with the compliment, but swallowed it down. Demons could get fucked. But Beelzebub was showing themself to be an excellent strategist, and Gabriel could appreciate that. 

“So,” Gabriel held out their phone, raising a single eyebrow, “Are we going to do this? I’ve got things to do today and I’d like to get it out of the way if we’re going to be kidnapping them.”

“One last question,” Gabriel said. He couldn’t justify bringing Heaven into this so soon unless the payoff would be worth it. “How are we going to punish them?”

“Oh,” Beelzebub said, darkly, “I have a  _ wonderful _ idea.”

Gabriel trusted that devilish grin to have some delicious ideas. He reached into his pocket, grabbing his phone. He flipped it open, hitting 2 on his speed dial. It rang exactly twice before Michael picked up. 

“Hey there,” Gabriel greeted. Beelzebub’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got an inside scoop. But we’re going to have to move fast.”

~~~ 

“Are you sure you aren’t busy? As long as you don’t do any magic we should be fine, if you need a day or so to make preparations.” Aziraphale said. Crowley was hearing half of his conversation with Anathema. From what he gathered, they were about to be leaving. 

He heard a muffled response, and then Aziraphale’s voice again. 

“Alright, we’ll be there shortly. I just need to run by the book shop and pick up some things. Thank you, Anathema, I do believe you’ve just fixed our problems.”

He heard another small mumble, a set of goodbyes, and the telltale beep of the phone being hung up. Crowley came around the bend and stared at Aziraphale intently. “So. What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to put together a fake book of all the spells Heaven has been sensing. Maybe two, if you think this would work for Hell. Change some things so the more dangerous spells are unusable, and turn over the copy. Heaven thinks the magic is contained. Crisis averted.”

“Why are we heading to your shop?” Crowley asked, reaching forward and grabbing the keys off of the counter. Aziraphale walked over to the door, slipping on his shoes. 

“Oh, I have some book binding equipment there.” Aziraphale informed him, joyfully. “I must say that it’s been quite some time since I’ve fiddled with any of it.”

Crowley’s heart melted. Aziraphale looked absolutely overjoyed with the opportunity. 

“Alright.” He agreed, “You ready to head out?”

“Most certainly.” Aziraphale agreed, grabbing hold of the door handle. Crowley walked forward as Aziraphale swung it open, and the warmth of the sun felt magnificent against his skin as he walked down the steps. Aziraphale followed behind him, forgetting to lock the door. 

Not that Crowley cared. His house  _ knew better _ than to be broken into. 

Crowley glanced around, spotting several identical black cars. Hmmm. That was… odd. 

He turned back towards Aziraphale. 

“Hey,” He said, “Isn’t that the same cab company from right by the gates?” He asked, as if he didn’t know. Crowley knew. He didn’t use healthy coping mechanisms, and had thrown up in… well, too many of them, on the way back from meetings with his superiors. Alcohol sickness was not his color. 

“You know what?” Aziraphale said, worry creeping into his voice, “I believe that it is.”

There were steps then, from their sides. Crowley heard them before he saw them, and he knew that they were fucked  _ far _ before he felt the sharp kiss of wood against his temple.

He fell to the ground, but forced his eyes to stay open as he stared at Aziraphale’s feet. His vision doubled, and he was staring at four of those tacky buckle shoes he wore. 

“Well,” He mumbled, as his vision blurred, slipping further into darkness, “I suppose  _ I  _ went down like a lead balloon.”

And then, there was nothing.

~~~

A sharp miracle brought Crowley’s world back into focus. 

He felt a damp feeling around his edges, very similar to… to….

He tried to move his wrists and found that his hands were bound together, his powers dampened. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the very same rope that him and Aziraphale had used in their ‘demonstrations’. He tried not to feel like a complete and total dumbass for having rope that bound their powers so easily accessible. 

His mouth was dry, and there were people standing around him. Aziraphale was a few feet in front, his eyes looking wide and fearful as he assessed their surroundings. Crowley felt a little less alone, seeing him here. But he also felt royally, ineffably  _ fucked _ . 

The archangel Gabriel and Beelzebub were standing next to each other on his left, far too close to them for Crowley’s comfort. The disposable demons? Those, Crowley could handle. He was smart, he could figure something out. He was sure that Aziraphale could do something similar about the angels that surrounded him (about six) as long as they weren’t of note. But power like Beelzebub and Gabriel?

They were not going to come out of this the way that they had hoped to. 

“What is this all about?” Aziraphale asked, finally. Crowley grimaced. 

“Well,” Gabriel said, slowly, “We were hoping that you two could tell us the same thing.”

Crowley’s brain suddenly flashed to Anathema, who was waiting for them entirely unawares. He hoped fervently that she would realize something was off and get far, far away. 

“I think we plead the fifth.” Crowley mumbled sardonically. 

“Wrong country.” Gabriel informed him, coldly. “Try again.”

“... Why don’t we settle this over tea and crumpets?” Aziraphale tried. Crowley had to fight back the urge to laugh like a maniac. 

“Why don’t you explain to us why you’ve been whoring yourself to this demon instead?” Gabriel asked, sharply. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Crowley could see that it stung like a slap to the face, and he tried not to let that hurt him, too. 

A look of resignation passed over Aziraphale’s face, and he looked down at the ground with stoic eyes. “I suppose the ruse is up?”

“Tell me, Aziraphale,” Gabriel questioned, “Why did you tell us you were tormenting the demon?”

“I made him do it!” Crowley spit, seeing an opportunity. Beelzebub glanced over at him, and a cruel laugh left their lips. 

“You?” Beelzebub questioned, holding their sides. “You? Made an  _ angel _ defy  _ heaven _ ? Oh, no, I don’t think so. Just like you showed me, I’m sure Aziraphale was  _ more than eager _ to defy what heaven considers right and wrong.”

“You see,” Gabriel said, grinning like a wolf who just caught a rabbit, “We’ve caught on to your little games.”

“How disgusting must it feel,” Beelzebub continued, showing more emotion than Crowley had seen from them in awhile, “To love an angel. How…  _ pathetic _ .”

And the weight of that came crashing down on Crowley’s shoulders. He felt weak, shaky. Because they didn’t  _ just _ know that they were fucking, and deceiving them… They knew that  _ he loved Aziraphale _ , and he didn’t know if he could handle looking up and into the angel’s shocked eyes right now, seeing the rejection, the  _ pity _ . 

“I assure you Crowley’s feelings for me are purely friendly.” Aziraphale spoke, softly. “You’ve got him all wrong, I’m afraid.”

His relief at Aziraphale not realizing the truth in the words was short-lived.

“Do you really think lying is going to lessen your sentence?” 

The voice came from his right, and Crowley turned sharply to see that the archangel Michael was there. She held in her hands a beautifully sculpted porcelain pitcher with little white flowers along the side. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked. 

“We’re not-” Aziraphale cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath, and took a steadying moment. Crowley finally brought himself to look at the angel, careful that his eyes didn’t say too many things that his mouth couldn’t. Aziraphale returned his gaze.

Crowley saw a deep sadness in Aziraphale’s eyes as both of them realized that their time together would be coming to an end. It… Well, it didn’t really matter whether or not they were together to heaven and hell, did it? It was their mere association that was the crime. It was  _ friendship _ they were being punished for.

And it was going to be very difficult to remain friends if both of them were dead. 

Crowley broke his gaze away, looking back towards the archangel and her pitcher. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was in that pitcher, and he prayed to every deity he knew that Anathema’s experiment had been successful. 

Crowley gave it about a sixty-forty shot in her favor. 

But he still wasn’t looking forward to testing it out. 

“What are you going to do to us?” Crowley questioned. Michael had the pitcher, but that still left nothing for Aziraphale. He wondered whether or not it might  _ not _ be holy water after all. 

“Oh, I’m sure Disposable number seven is on his way now.” Beelzebub said. 

As if on cue, the demon sprinted up, fighting against the down escalator one had to sprint up in order to leave hell. His hands were full of paint, candles, and matches. He immediately ran across the empty space and towards the party, dropping to his knees beside Michael as he rushed to draw a hellfire circle on the floor. 

“So,” Crowley said, stalling for time, “Which one of us is going to bite the bullet first?”

“I feel as though my offense warrants the first punishment.” Aziraphale said. Crowley turned towards him sharply, mouth open. 

“You are  _ not _ going to do this.” He said, firmly. “I am  _ obviously _ going first.”

“And what is your reasoning for that?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley could see genuine annoyance on his face, and he fought the urge to snap at Aziraphale. 

He was  _ not _ going to watch his angel die, thank you very much! Besides, a couple more seconds of time might give Aziraphale a better chance at escape, or rescue, or  _ something _ !

“My reasoning for that is that you were seduced by my wicked charm, and honestly couldn’t help yourself.” Crowley reminded him. Aziraphale looked at Crowley for what felt like a solid minute. 

“Yesterday you tried to slide across the kitchen floor in your socks and slid face-first into the fridge.” Aziraphale reminded him. “I highly doubt it was the ‘wicked charm’ that did it.”

Crowley felt his face heat. He was just about to bite back a response when Gabriel interrupted. 

“If you guys could quit being gross for like thirty seconds, it’s time for someone to die.” He announced. Aziraphale shot him a look sharp enough to cut a diamond, and Crowley’s hand twitched with the urge to punch Gabriel in the face. 

“I’m ready!” Disposable announced. Crowley glanced down and saw that the sigil had been sloppily completed, and anxiety caused his stomach to clench. He stood, lighting a match. His hand hovered just above the floor.

“Wait!” Crowley shouted, his voice echoing through the room. 

Everyone turned towards him. He froze. Time clicked on, and he could sense the restless annoyance wafting from the archangels. Beelzebub and the other demons were used to his bullshit, and their annoyance was far more resigned. 

The tension swelled, and Crowley knew that he had to say  _ something _ .

“Sorry.” He apologized, finally. He deflated. “I thought something would come to me.”

“Okay,” Gabriel announced, grabbing him roughly by the arm. “You die first. I’m calling it, there is no argument here, your existence is a curse and every minute I spend with you is another minute I’m never getting back.”

“You’re  _ immortal _ .” Aziraphale pointed out, hotly. Crowley figured it was because he knew he couldn’t defend Crowley on the grounds that he wasn’t annoying. 

“Still not long enough to forget this idiot.” Gabriel hissed. Crowley stumbled forward as Gabriel set a foot in front of his path, pushing him down. He came crashing onto the floor, unable to maintain his balance. He was staring down at the archangel Michael’s shoes, which were surprisingly stylish. 

“You had so much potential.” He heard Beelzebub announce, behind him. 

He looked up as he heard water sloshing, and he saw the pitcher being raised over his head. Suddenly, a 60% chance didn’t feel like nearly enough, and he realized that if it wasn’t, he was about to die quickly and painfully in front of the man who he had loved for over six-thousand years and never gotten the balls to tell. 

And suddenly, there was nothing  _ worse _ than the idea that he wouldn’t have ever told Aziraphale how he felt. 

All the time that they had spent together, all the brisk summer walks, the meals in dimly lit restaurants. The vacations where they would run off to big cities and quaint countrysides for days. The times when Aziraphale would say something so sweet and so profound that Crowley almost, for a moment, didn’t hate himself. Aziraphale deserved better than his cowardice. 

It didn’t matter whether or not Aziraphale felt the same way about him. Their friendship would be lost anyway, if he was going to die. Aziraphale deserved to know just how fucking  _ loveable _ he was. 

“Wait!” He cried out. “I need to say something first!”

“You’ve more than said your piece.” Michael spat. 

Crowley looked up just in time to see the water, as if in slow-motion, dripping from the pitcher, towards his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I promise the story has a happy ending.  
> Sorry for not updating yesterday, I forgot until I was at work and I don't get off till three on Friday nights, so I tend to collapse into bed once I'm done XD.


	14. Chapter 14

Aziraphale cried out. He pulled against the ropes binding him with all of his might, but they only bit into his skin. He felt tears well in his eyes as he watched the first drops in the pitcher drip down. He swore he heard a sizzling noise. 

Michael turned the pitcher over, and the rest of the water rushed out. 

Crowley’s hair stuck flat against his head. Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes away. Crowley took in a sharp hiss of breath and his wings tore themselves into their dimension, causing several demons to cry out in pain as droplets of holy water sizzled against their skin. 

Aziraphale waited to see Crowley melt. It looked like Anathema’s plan hadn’t quite worked as well as she had intended it to. 

He still heard a sizzling sound, and he saw Crowley breathing heavily, his wings rising and falling with the effort. 

There was steam coming off of his skin. 

Aziraphale heard a pained laugh, and Crowley threw a look over his shoulder. 

“Stings a bit.” He confessed. He raised his wings and shook them out behind him, causing the demons around Aziraphale to turn and run several steps in the other direction. A drop of water rolled down Crowley’s face, and his forked tongue came out to mockingly lap it up. 

“Wha-” Michael took several steps back. The pitcher she had been holding shattered against the ground, and she glanced helplessly towards Beelzebub. Beelzebub was busy hiding behind Gabriel, who had stepped back when Crowley’s wings were released. Beelzebub was looking at Crowley like he had just grown a second head. Michael steeled herself, and turned back towards the demon. “How?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Crowley mocked. Aziraphale felt his heart swell with pride. 

He felt a tugging at his shoulder blades, a response to seeing Crowley’s wings out. He blushed, knowing that this was  _ not _ , in fact, a mating display. But he’d found Crowley’s defiance in the face of authority undeniably attractive, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold them in for very long. 

Aziraphale let his own wings come out. One of the demons who was standing too close let out a confused cry of pain as he was hit directly in the face. 

“My bad!” Aziraphale apologized, turning and giving them a sheepish wave. 

“This isn’t possible.” Beelzebub accused. They turned their gaze to Michael, narrowing their eyes. “Are you certain that that was holy water?”

“It burned the others!” Gabriel pointed out, gesturing towards the demons hunkering down in the corner. Beelzebub glanced back and forth between them and Crowley, eyes wide. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I think I do.” Aziraphale cut in. He turned towards the Disposable demon who had drawn the hellfire ring. “Why don’t you go ahead and light that?”

“Ummm…” Disposable turned towards Beelzebub, raising an eyebrow, silently asking for permission. 

“Do as he says!” Beelzebub commanded. Disposable took several steps forward and lit another match, throwing it down into the painted circle. Immediately, a swirling cyclone of hellfire erupted from the floor. 

Crowley looked back towards Aziraphale, concern in his eyes. “A word, Angel?”

Aziraphale pointedly ignored him. He knew what the word was going to be; something along the lines of ‘ _ just because it worked for me doesn’t mean it will work for you, why are you testing this’ _ , but Aziraphale had already made up his mind. He knew how they were going to fix this. And it would  _ require _ that he prove his impervience to hellfire. 

“In a minute.” Aziraphale argued, stepping forward. 

“Angel,” Crowley pleaded, turning sharply. “I really think that we should-”

Aziraphale ignored him. He shut his eyes tightly, praying that Crowley would forgive him for his recklessness later. He walked forward briskly, his steps punctuated by the rising panic in Crowley’s voice. 

He ran the last two steps, tossing himself into the flames. 

The hellfire was… Hot. 

Like a bath that was burning his skin. It felt unnatural against him, but it served at least one purpose; the ropes that had been around his wrists burned off in a blaze of glory. He separated his hands behind him and brought them up to examine them, flexing his fingers. 

When he looked up, Gabriel looked  _ terrified _ . 

He walked out of the flames, and found himself briefly inconvenienced by a sharp cough. The smoke had definitely gotten to him. He took a moment to recover before he spoke.

“We are no longer fully angel, or fully demon.” Aziraphale announced. He glanced over, unable to stop himself from judging Crowley’s reaction. Crowley looked  _ pissed _ at first, and Aziraphale knew he was going to get an earful later- but then, confusion. Confusion gave way to acceptance, acceptance gave way to an ‘eh, that’s not half bad’ head nod and a significant look in Aziraphale’s direction to let him know he was in. “We are something else entirely, and no longer under your jurisdiction.”

“What are you, then?” Gabriel questioned. 

Because of  _ course _ he did. 

“None of your bloody business, that’s what we are!” Crowley declared, saving Aziraphale from having to come up with some sort of name on the spot. Aziraphale sighed in relief. Gabriel turned a sharp eye towards Crowley, and moved as if to finish the job himself. 

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and freed Crowley’s hands, ensuring that the demon would be able to fight if Gabriel  _ did _ instigate something physical. Crowley shot him a grateful look before he stood, his wings giving a soft flap to help him right himself. 

“What matters,” Aziraphale said, stepping forward, “Is that we cannot be hurt by your traditional means.”

“Or by any means, really.” Crowley lied. Aziraphale grinned. “So I suggest you let us go before we show you our new upgrades.”

“You’re bluffing.” Gabriel hissed, fury in his eyes. 

“Maybe we are.” Crowley said, gleefully. His eyes darkened, and his posture turned protective as he took a step in front of Aziraphale. “Do you feel like finding out?”

Most of the demons that had been watching up to that point had slowly edged themselves towards the exits. Upon hearing this, most of them scampered towards the nearest one. Some ran out onto the London streets, some back into Hell. The unfortunate Disposable demon that had drawn the hellfire sigil ran straight into heaven. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what would come of that. 

“I don’t think this ends well for anyone involved any other way than letting us walk out that door and continue on with our lives.” Crowley argued. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s wing gently brush against his own and he suppressed a shiver, shooting the demon a fond look. 

Gabriel and Michael shared a helpless, confused look. 

Beelzebub had no such equal to consort with, and frankly didn’t care enough to worry that they weren’t making the right decision. Whatever the hell was going on, Bee no longer wanted any part of it.

“Sounds good to me.” Beelzebub said, flatly. “I’m peacing out.” They set a hand lightly on Gabriel’s shoulder, “Working together was fun for half an hour. Let’s never do it again.”

Michael and Gabriel watched as Beelzebub moved towards the entrance to hell, pointedly not looking over their shoulder. As they left, several annoying flies that had been buzzing around during the proceedings left with them. 

There were several disbelieving moments of silence.

“Looks like it might be in your best interest to fuck off, mate.” Crowley informed them. Gabriel shot him an intense glare, and he responded (quite maturely) by sticking out his forked tongue. 

“I… Really don’t see anything else we can do at this point.” Michael said, helplessly. 

“We can’t do  _ nothing! _ ” Gabriel argued, gesturing towards them. Several of the lower-level angels around them shifted uncomfortably, whispering amongst themselves. Gabriel turned towards them, furious. “Would the peanut gallery like to share?”

A young girl with dark black hair and bright blue eyes raised her hand. Gabriel looked affronted as she spoke. “...I don’t think God would have allowed this if this angel and this demon were not a part of Her plan.”

“Excuse me?!” Gabriel demanded. Aziraphale expected her to back down and shut up, but Gabriel’s tone ignited a little bit of defiance in her eyes. 

“God has ultimate power here, right?” She demanded, looking back and forth between Gabriel and Michael. Neither of them corrected her, and a murmur of agreement went through the gathered angels. “If She had wanted them dead, they would be dead. She is the only one who could have possibly given them this… Immunity.”

Gabriel’s mouth dropped open. 

“You’re saying that God herself endorsed this abomination of a relationship?” He demanded. “On what authority do you speak?”

“I…” She hesitated. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

The fight drained out of her, and she stepped back. Her eyes were fixed on the floor pointedly, and she shifted her weight under Gabriel’s scrutiny. 

“...You know,” Michael said, slowly, “Maybe the girl is right. Aziraphale is… most certainly hornier than the average angel,” Aziraphale felt no offense to this, “But he wouldn’t have lied to heaven for a good… what is it the humans are calling it nowadays?”

“Game of nug-a-nug?” Aziraphale said. Crowley shot him a look of confusion and betrayal.

“Shag.” Crowley corrected, helpfully. “ _ Nug-a-nug _ hasn’t been used for  _ literal _ centuries.”

“Thank you, Demon.” She said. Crowley was both shocked and a little outraged at her thanks. “Either way, what they have here clearly transcends the physical. God is a being of love. Maybe Her mercy is coming because of their… unconventional connection?”

“That is completely outrageous. Their love is a clear abomination!” Gabriel spat, gesturing back and forth between them. “I’m not denying they’re head over heels, but you cannot expect me to believe that they were spared because of it.”

Aziraphale felt a mild embarrassment creep up, and he hoped very much that him and Crowley weren’t going to talk about this later. 

“Maybe so.” Michael said, softly. “But you aren’t the one who gets to make that call.”

“I think we should let them go home.” The black-haired girl put in again. 

“I don’t think you can particularly stop us either way.” Crowley pointed out. He raised his hand, poising his fingers as if to snap. Gabriel got the message. 

They could leave any time they wanted. Aziraphale and Crowley’s powers were unbound right now, and they weren’t about to stick around if Heaven  _ did _ decide to try and take different measures. 

“Alright.” Gabriel amended, finally. “Whatever. I guess we just… Let them go, now.”

There was a long pause, and Aziraphale watched Michael and Gabriel silently go back and forth. He tried to keep up between the two of them, but found himself lost halfway through the communication. Whatever it had been, Michael seemed to have won, because she was the one who next spoke. 

“We’ll be in touch soon, Aziraphale.” Michael said, calmly. She turned towards them, and snapped her fingers. Aziraphale noticed the soot left his feathers and Crowley’s wings seemed miraculously dry. “For now, I suppose there’s nothing more we can do.”

Aziraphale felt the realization that they had  _ won _ wash over him. He turned towards Crowley to find the demon looking at him with the same rapturous glee. It took every ounce of willpower Aziraphale had not to grab his face and kiss him right there. 

Aziraphale felt his own smile falter as he turned towards the door. A realization was creeping in, and this wasn’t the time or the place to have it. 

“Well,” He said, politely. “I suppose that this is where we take our leave?”

He took several steps towards the door. Crowley walked with him. Aziraphale folded his wings in towards himself, slipping them back into the astral plane. He heard a telltale swoosh as Crowley’s folded in behind him. Aziraphale watched out of the corner of his eye as Crowley turned, walking backwards.

“We’ll send a fruit basket for your troubles.” Crowley sneered. Aziraphale knew that the jibe was directed at Gabriel. “Extra apples. Fuck it,  _ entirely _ apples!”

Crowley turned back around and Aziraphale smirked as the demon narrowly avoided running into the wall, rather than the door. 

He grabbed the handle and pulled it open, turning and gesturing through the entryway. Crowley’s face was red, but he maintained his “cool” composure as he slipped out the door and onto the London street. Aziraphale glanced towards the gates of heaven one last time, and he idly wondered when the next time he’d be called there would be. He decided that he didn’t care.

“You coming, Angel?” Crowley questioned. 

Aziraphale turned back towards his demon. 

Aziraphale exited, allowing the door to shut behind them. As soon as they were out on the street, Crowley offered up his elbow. Aziraphale stared at it for a moment before taking it eagerly.

“This will certainly be a new chapter of our lives.” Aziraphale said, slowly. Crowley maneuvered them through the London foot traffic, and towards the street. He raised his hand, calling for a taxi. 

Crowley looked at him with a look so  _ soft _ Aziraphale almost burst into tears right there. He could feel the places where Crowley’s arm touched his acutely. He wondered whether or not it had occurred to Crowley yet. 

“I doubt they’ll be watching all that closely. Which means no more pretending.” Aziraphale said. His words held behind them a kind of weight that he was certain Crowley didn’t feel. A kind of sadness. A mourning for a delicately blooming part of their relationship that Aziraphale was going to miss  _ dearly _ . 

Because now that they didn’t have to pretend anymore, they also didn’t have to  _ practice _ . They didn’t have to fake being together in front of Beelzebub. They didn’t have to make love. 

Crowley must have picked up on his tone, because he turned to Aziraphale in confusion. Aziraphale felt a terrible, sudden, irrational fear surge up that Crowley had somehow read his mind, had heard his pathetic, love-sick thoughts. 

A cab pulled up to the curb, and the Driver rolled down the window. 

“Where to?” He questioned. Crowley broke their eye contact, and Aziraphale immediately grabbed the door handle, opening it and climbing inside. He was grateful for the rescue, for the chance not to have to say it out loud quite yet. 

Crowley climbed in behind him, shutting the door softly. He clearly knew that something was wrong, but thankfully didn’t push the issue. 

“... Celebration dinner at the Ritz?” He offered. Aziraphale immediately perked up. Crowley  _ always _ knew how to make him feel better. 

“I’d say that this is exactly the right kind of occasion.” He agreed. 

Crowley leaned forward and communicated the new instructions to the driver. Aziraphale let his worries be swept away by thoughts of delicious chocolate cake.

~~~

When they arrived home, they were both exhausted. 

Aziraphale glanced at the clock- it was only eight P.M. He assumed that after the day that they had, they deserved to cut themselves some slack. Aziraphale didn’t  _ need _ to sleep, no. But he sure as hell  _ felt like it _ , this time around. 

“Angel?” Crowley said, quietly. Aziraphale turned, and he saw Crowley’s bright yellow eyes glowing up at him. Everything in him  _ begged _ to touch Crowley, but he forced himself to remain steady. “What are you thinking?”

Aziraphale sighed. 

He knew he hadn’t quite managed to shove down his feelings earlier. Crowley was too perceptive, too honed-in on his emotions. It was one of the disadvantages to spending time with someone whose company you had very much so enjoyed for six-thousand years. 

“I’m just thinking,” Aziraphale said, slowly, giving himself some time to think, “That we should get some rest tonight. We might not need it, but Anathema’s place tomorrow is going to be draining as well. Being well-rested might do us some good.”

After all, him and Crowley may be safe, but heaven and hell still knew about a mysterious magical force coming from approximately Tadfield.

Crowley looked like he didn’t quite believe Aziraphale (and he shouldn’t, the angel was clearly redirecting his question) but he let the issue drop. “My bed is softer than yours.”

Aziraphale tried not to let the shock show on his face. Crowley looked  _ nervous _ , for heaven’s sake, and he wasn’t about to make him panic even more. But Aziraphale hadn’t been expecting an offer that intimate. He had expected that they would go back to “sleeping” in different beds, and using the occasional bout of drunkenness as an excuse for intimate cuddling. 

But… Maybe things didn’t have to go all the way back to the way they were before? Maybe they could…  _ keep _ this new part of their relationship?

After all, he supposed that Crowley  _ did _ seem to enjoy their newfound physicality. He had cuddled up to Aziraphale frequently, and the things he did with that  _ tongue of his _ , heaven help him, Aziraphale could discorporate just thinking about it. 

It would also be just… Terribly convenient, would it not? 

Yes, yes… Those were all the excuses that Aziraphale would give when he proposed that they continue their physical arrangement. After all, they were living together. 

The occasional shag would do both of them some good. 

“Wily serpent,” Aziraphale tisked, “Are you tempting me into your bed?”

Crowley’s worry melted away, replaced by a contented smile as he looked Aziraphale up and down. Those yellow eyes smoldered everywhere they went, making Aziraphale feel hot. He self-consciously pulled on the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I believe I am, Angel.” Crowley informed him. “But not for anything you don’t want to do.”

Aziraphale felt hope spark in his heart, and his pulse quickened. This was… This was better than anything he could have planned. It would have taken him ages to get up the courage-- the fact that it had  _ come up _ as a part of  _ casual banter _ just made it easy. 

“I believe we had discussed you penetrating me at some point?” Aziraphale proposed, looking up at Crowley through his eyelashes. He watched the light red flush spread across the demon’s face as his eyes glowed in hunger. 

Aziraphale felt a soft hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it, closing his eyes. 

“Anything you want, Angel.” Crowley promised him. 

Aziraphale melted, trusting with absolute certainty that Crowley was telling the truth. Crowley would have him tonight. Aziraphale wanted that more than  _ anything _ . 

“Please,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley stepped forward, his other hand gripping Aziraphale’s hip possessively as he leaned down, kissing along Aziraphale’s neck in heavy, wet kisses. Aziraphale felt his cock twitch in interest, and his hands ran along Crowley’s shoulders, clutching. 

“I thought I was going to lose you today.” Aziraphale confessed, speaking what neither of them had earlier been willing to say, “When Michael raised that pitcher. I… I thought I might have to watch you die.”

“You’re one to talk.” Crowley growled against his skin. Aziraphale shivered delightfully, huffing a contented sigh. Crowley pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open, and Crowley’s hands both moved to cup his face. “You walked into the fire today  _ of your own free will _ .”

“But it worked.” Aziraphale pointed out, stubbornly. He knew that Crowley was right, and he had a right to be angry at Aziraphale for taking that kind of risk, but he  _ also _ removed any shadow of a doubt that heaven and hell would leave them alone… At least, for the time being. Their hands were tied. 

“It worked.” Crowley agreed. “But I ought to punish you for that.”

Aziraphale’s breath quickened. 

“What kind of punishment?” he questioned. Crowley thought for a moment, and his hands began to drift as his face took on a look of contemplation. His deft fingers danced handsomely across Aziraphale’s shirt, undoing buttons along the way. 

“I might make you cum so many times you lose count.” Crowley suggested. Aziraphale felt a soft whine build in his throat at the suggestion, but he swallowed it. “Or edge you. Over, and over, and over. Or a combination of the two. Does that sound good to you?”

Crowley’s eyes, which had been following his hand’s descent down Aziraphale’s shirt, snapped back up to his own. Aziraphale swallowed thickly. 

“I would not object to being…  _ deserving _ of such a punishment.” Aziraphale agreed. Crowley’s fingers reached the waistband of his trousers, unbuttoning them quickly. The demon’s hands snaked their way inside of Aziraphale’s briefs, running along the skin of his hips and towards his ass. 

“Not what I asked.” Crowley informed him, softly. Aziraphale groaned as his cock strained against the front of his boxers. Crowley was going to make him say it. 

“Yes, that sounds wonderful.” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Good. Let’s get started, then.” Crowley said, nipping lightly at the skin of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale sighed, letting his body relax. Crowley’s hands came back round the front of his trousers, slipping up over Aziraphale’s hipbones in the most  _ delicious _ way. “You’re going to tell me when you get close, alright?”

“Anything you want,” Aziraphale breathed. Crowley pushed Aziraphale’s trousers down  _ just _ far enough to reach into his pants and pull out his aching cock. Aziraphale cried out, hands desperately clinging to Crowley’s jacket as Crowley began to languidly pump his dick. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help the noises he made. His fear of losing Crowley and his subsequent fear of losing this side of their relationship made him feel eager to please the demon, and Aziraphale  _ knew _ that Crowley wanted to hear him. Crowley’s grip tightened and Aziraphale’s toes curled. 

“Fuck, Angel,” Crowley breathed, letting out a chuckle against his skin. 

“That’s the plan.” Aziraphale reminded him, a little breathlessly. Crowley responded by swiping his thumb across the head of Aziraphale’s aching prick, causing Aziraphale’s hips to buck forward. 

“Cheeky bastard.” Crowley accused. Aziraphale felt dizzy from pleasure. 

Crowley’s technique improved then. He held Aziraphale tighter, moved his hand a little faster. His tongue came out to run sensually against Aziraphale’s neck, up towards his ear. Crowley stopped there and gave a little nibble as he began to throw in superfluous flicks of his wrist. Aziraphale felt his thighs begin to quake, and he let out a moan that was just as shaken. 

He bit his lip, steeling his resolve as he tried to think of  _ anything _ else. Crowley’s hand was too good, and he would be embarrassed to have to inform Crowley of his impending orgasm so soon. 

But try as he might, Aziraphale couldn’t bring his thoughts away. His mind was full of Crowley. Every cell in his body felt connected to his demon. His world had narrowed, and all of the other things he usually loved melted away. It was  _ just Crowley _ . There was  _ only _ Crowley. 

Aziraphale felt his orgasm rapidly approaching, and he held out as long as he could. 

“I’m close!” He finally warned. He grabbed Crowley’s hand and forced it to stop, knowing that even one more pump would have sent him over the edge. He bit his lip  _ hard _ as his body  _ burned _ with the denial, waves of want crashing through him before abating into a more tolerable ache. 

“Already?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale huffed. 

“Not like you weren’t  _ trying _ to get me there fast.” He pointed out. Crowley shrugged. 

“The longer it takes, the more time I get to have making you feel good.” Crowley reminded him. “Breaks like this aren’t near as much fun.”

“Well,” Aziraphale pointed out, “We  _ could _ take the opportunity to move this to the bedroom.”

“Wonderful idea, Angel.” Crowley agreed. Aziraphale fought back the urge to whine at the loss of contact when Crowley pulled his hand away. He took a step back, and Aziraphale let his hands slip from Crowley’s shoulders. He reached down, tucking himself back in his pants. It was uncomfortable, but Aziraphale had the feeling that he wouldn’t be in them for long. 

“Downstairs? Or down the hall?” He asked, uncertainly. Crowley was in control here, so he figured that he would let Crowley choose the venue. 

“There’s nothing we need from downstairs.” Crowley pointed out. “I have a good lube in my dresser drawer. And I plan to ravage you the old fashioned way tonight.”

“Sounds delightful.” Aziraphale agreed. He tried to ignore how his heart skipped a beat at the thought of doing this in Crowley’s bed, in his personal space, his inner sanctum. 

Crowley lead the way, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and pulling him down the hallway. Aziraphale followed, his lovesick heart giving palpitations the whole way. He was certain that, had he been human, he wouldn’t have survived feelings this intense. 

Crowley pushed open the door to his room, stepping inside. Aziraphale followed, giving Crowley’s hand a soft squeeze. When Crowley turned back, his eyes were soft and warm. Amber. Like the very edges of a fire on a cool autumn’s day. 

“Take off your clothes.” Crowley requested. Aziraphale didn’t have to be told twice. 

He stripped down hurriedly, his shirt hitting the floor before his hands dropped to his pants. He slid the fabric over his still-hard cock, hissing at the stimulation before dropping them to the floor. He stepped out of them, and looked over to find Crowley in a wrestling match with his skinny jeans, shirt already gone. 

Aziraphale looked away sharply, knowing that now would be a terrible time to laugh. 

“Find something amusing, Angel?” Crowley questioned, a hint of a threat in his voice. 

“No!” Aziraphale defended. “Of course not. I’m just… Enjoying myself immensely.”

“Mmmhm.” Crowley responded. Aziraphale risked another glance back to find that he had won the fight, and his skinny jeans lay defeated on the carpet to his left. “Get over here.”

Aziraphale listened, walking towards Crowley. Anticipation curled in his stomach as all the things Crowley could do to him flooded his mind, filling him to the brim with possibility. But… Possibility wasn’t the only thing he wanted to be filled with tonight. 

“Need I remind you,” Aziraphale said, approaching, “That we had planned for you to fuck me tonight?”

Crowley lost his cool expression, and one of open  _ desire _ and shock replaced it. He shook his head, blinking, redoing his expression. “We’ll get there, Angel. You’ve just gotta have a little patience.”

“Patience.” Aziraphale huffed. Crowley’s hands landed gently on his shoulders, pushing him back until his back was against the wall. 

“Same patience I had to have, waiting to see how that holy fire affected you.” Crowley reminded him, raising his eyebrows. Aziraphale sheepishly nodded. 

“Patience. Alright. I suppose.”

Crowley’s hand slipped down from his shoulder, trailing across his stomach to reach Aziraphale’s cock again. Aziraphale sighed with relief as Crowley started pumping, providing the most delicious stimulation. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but look into Crowley’s serpentine eyes as Crowley’s hand worked on him. He found himself leaning forward unconsciously, his own eyes becoming hooded as he gripped Crowley’s shoulders again to feel grounded. Suddenly, he was grateful to Crowley for doing this against the wall; he needed to feel  _ grounded _ right now, or he was going to float away. 

Crowley leaned in, embraced the gesture. Their foreheads were touching, and he could feel Crowley’s breath against his lips as his hand tugged at Aziraphale, using all the same tricks that had driven him so close to the edge before. 

“C-Crowley,” Aziraphale said. He felt not unlike a moth pinned to a corkboard. Beautiful, fragile, precious… Unable to escape Crowley’s steady gaze. Aziraphale couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. 

It was too intimate. Crowley touching him, his breath ghosting across Aziraphale’s skin. Aziraphale was certain that the demon could see right through him, straight to his very soul. Aziraphale’s body was heating up again, like someone had taken a magnifying glass to him in the sunlight. There was  _ no escape _ , there was no escape…

He didn’t want there to be. 

“I’m close!” He warned, as soon as he began to feel his orgasm build. This gave Crowley a little bit more time than he had given him last time, but Aziraphale was left feeling even  _ more _ disappointed as his body  _ ached _ for the release it knew it was promised. 

“Good job,” Crowley praised. His hand was still against the base of Aziraphale’s cock, but his thumb swiped over the sensitive head again. Aziraphale cried out, his knees wobbling under the onslaught of pleasure. 

God, this was making him  _ sensitive _ . 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale breathed, not knowing what else to say. Crowley’s eyes shone, glazed over with emotion, and Aziraphale felt treasured. 

“Do you want my hand again? Or do you want me to use my mouth?”

Aziraphale hesitated. On one hand, he loved the intense eye contact that Crowley was giving him here. He didn’t get that kind of vulnerability from the demon often, and he was ready to soak it all up. On the other hand, Crowley’s tongue did some wonderful,  _ sinful _ things that he very much so wanted to feel on his aching cock right about now. 

“Mouth,” Aziraphale requested. “Please.”

Crowley grinned, taking a step back as he slowly slid down Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale watched, his breath hitching as Crowley came face-first with his twitching cock. 

“Do you think you can handle more now?” Crowley asked, running his hands along Aziraphale’s thighs. Aziraphale didn’t think he could have told him no even if he wanted to right then. He had… Resigned himself to being embarrassingly quick at this point. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale said. And that was all it took. 

Crowley’s forked tongue was pressing up against the underside of his cock, licking  _ deliciously _ up towards the tip. Aziraphale groaned, his hands splaying out on the wall behind him for extra support. Crowley grinned, mischief sparkling in those gorgeous yellow eyes. 

“Awful eager at this point, aren’t you?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Aziraphale agreed, because there was no point in denying it. Crowley had the proof of how “eager” he was right in his face. 

Crowley rewarded his honesty by taking Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and starting with a slow and steady rhythm. Waves of pleasure washed over Aziraphale as he felt Crowley’s tongue, which seemed  _ impossibly _ long now, curl around his dick. It added an extra layer of sensation to the already pleasurable affair. 

Suffice to say that it didn’t take long for Aziraphale to be a shaking, moaning mess. 

Crowley kept up his slow and steady pace, even as Aziraphale came undone. 

“ _ Crowley _ ,” He moaned, hips bucking. “ _ Oh, _ Crowley… Yes! Please. You feel divine.”

Crowley moved faster then, but  _ barely _ . Just enough to drive Aziraphale mad with the tease. And Aziraphale  _ knew _ how Crowley liked to tease. If Crowley wanted to, he would keep Aziraphale in his mouth and on the edge like this for hours. 

“Please,” He requested, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was begging Crowley to speed up or begging him to continue dragging this out as long as he could. 

Crowley unwrapped his tongue from Aziraphale’s cock and pulled off, looking up at him with eyes full of mischief. “Would you like me to get the lube now?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale said. Crowley stood, turning towards the nightstand and taking a few large steps, opening one of the drawers. He rummaged around for a few seconds before producing the lube, and he opened the lid with a satisfying pop. He coated two of his fingers in it, making sure to give Aziraphale a good view. 

Aziraphale’s cock gave another twitch. 

“Spread your legs a little.” Crowley told him, gently. Aziraphale did as he was told as Crowley set the lube on the dresser, sauntering over and dropping back to his knees. He looked at Aziraphale lovingly as he let his hands explore, the lubed fingers trailing back behind his balls and towards Aziraphale’s entrance. 

“You want this?” Crowley ensured, looking up. He rubbed against Aziraphale’s hole, and Aziraphale had to consciously stop himself from sinking down. Verbal communication was what Crowley wanted right now. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale reassured him. Crowley leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to Aziraphale’s hip as he slipped the first digit inside. 

He continued to pepper kisses along Aziraphale’s hips, stopping every now and again to bite and suck his skin, leaving little marks. Aziraphale relaxed, getting used to the intrusion, and Crowley pressed a second finger in along with the first. He hooked them slightly and drove them deeper. Crowley hit his prostate, and Aziraphale’s legs wobbled. 

“Crowley! There,” He informed him, spreading his legs further as the intensity of the sensation made him crave  _ more _ . He let his head fall back against the wall as Crowley licked up his cock again, giving Aziraphale practically no warning before he was taking his cock in his mouth. 

Instead of that beautiful little tongue trick he had done, Crowley kept pushing, his throat accommodating the head of Aziraphale’s cock as he began to swallow. Aziraphale let out a whine, feeling that hotness beginning to flush across his skin as he approached orgasm yet again. 

“Crow-- _ ley _ ,” He warned. Crowley pulled off his his aching cock and removed his fingers. Aziraphale let out a frustrated whine at how  _ cruel _ it was, to deny him again. He was so sensitive now, and Crowley was having far too much fun exploiting every  _ single _ thing he knew Aziraphale liked the most. 

“Why don’t you go bend over the bed?” Crowley suggested, gesturing towards it. Aziraphale felt a hot rush of excitement. Was this going to be it? Was Crowley going to take him  _ now? _

“Yes, Sir.” Aziraphale breathed, walking over to the bed. He let himself fall forward, his elbows hitting the soft comforter as he presented himself for Crowley’s use. 

He felt a hand soft along his backside, and he shivered considerably. 

Crowley’s fingers pressed at his hole again, and Aziraphale felt a rush of disappointment, mixed with the hot sting of arousal. He was being denied what he really wanted,  _ again _ , in a far crueler way than he had been before. 

“Crowley!” He cried out, pushing back against the fingers. He needed something more substantial, wanted to be filled. 

“Patience, Angel.” Crowley purred. He hooked his fingers, massaging Aziraphale’s prostate with a gentle vigor. Aziraphale  _ swore _ he saw the very stars that Crowley helped to create. “In due time.”

Those sinful fingers continued to work against him, massaging and prodding, stretching him, encouraging thoughts of Crowley replacing his fingers with his own cock. Aziraphale’s dick bobbed neglected between his still-quivering legs, and he let out a noise of frustration as he felt his orgasm begin to build again,  _ much _ slower this time. 

Without stimulation for his cock, there was all the time in the world on Aziraphale’s ascent into bliss. Crowley continued working on him, milking his prostate and murmuring little words of encouragement as he kissed along Aziraphale’s shoulders. The heat that had been building before raged like a slow inferno, consuming him, making him feel too hot and not hot enough all at once. 

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,” Aziraphale chanted, pushing back against his fingers as he chased after his own pleasure. He was-- He was  _ so _ damn close, he could feel his toes curling, waves of euphoria were cascading over his body as he felt his muscles tense in preparation, and- “Fuck, Crowley!”

Crowley withdrew his fingers, and Aziraphale swore.  _ Denial _ hit him hard, sending him reeling as his body pulsed hot with want, greedily demanding what it had yet to be given. 

“That’s the plan.” Crowley informed him, a parody of his own tease. Aziraphale heard the lube cap open again, and he let out a sigh of relief. 

“I want you,” Aziraphale informed him, too high on endorphins to be careful with his words. “I need you, Crowley.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Crowley swore softly. He snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale only had to wonder what he could have possibly done for a few moments before looking up and seeing the wide mirror Crowley had placed on the opposite side of the room. “I need to be able to see your face, Angel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale hissed, watching in the mirror as Crowley slicked up his own hard cock. The lube bottle was once again returned to the bedside dresser, and one of Crowley’s hands sat delicately against Aziraphale’s back as the other positioned himself. Aziraphale felt the head of Crowley’s cock push against his entrance, and Crowley looked up. Their eyes met through the mirror, and Aziraphale felt  _ heat _ flush through him as Crowley slowly pushed into him. 

Inch by inch he accepted Crowley’s cock, the warm slide of it into him dragging all of his focus to his body. Crowley bottomed out with a soft groan, and Aziraphale was  _ very _ grateful for the mirror. He could see Crowley’s blissed-out face, watched his eyes turn a deeper shade of yellow than Aziraphale had ever seen before. 

The pleasant stretch and the feeling of being  _ full  _ washed over him.

“Move,” Aziraphale requested, giving his hips a small wiggle. Crowley pulled out a few inches before slowly rocking back in, his manhood putting more pressure on Aziraphale’s prostate than was strictly safe for how long Aziraphale had been denied. 

“You feel so good.” Crowley informed him. Aziraphale blushed deeper, his eyes glancing again to meet Crowley’s in the mirror. Crowley looked at him with unadulterated  _ want _ , and Aziraphale hoped fervently that this would never have to end. 

Crowley’s thrusts were slow, but consistent. Aziraphale hadn’t really been given enough time to recover after his last edge, and he was feeling that now as every nerve he had felt alight with sensation, Crowley moving inside of him with a gentle insistence. Aziraphale pushed back, craving  _ more _ , but Crowley responded by grinning and delivering a small smack to his ass. 

Aziraphale hissed at the pleasure-pain.

“Patience,” Crowley reminded him. “You’re doing so well.”

Aziraphale let the praise wash over him. He tore his eyes away from the mirror, looking down at the dark bed sheets as he focussed on separating the physical and emotional sensations that were beginning to overcome him. 

“Crowley,” He panted, Crowley’s insistent movements yet again reigniting the buildup that had been plaguing him all night. He tried to concentrate, tried to think about  _ anything _ other than Crowley thrusting into him, but his brain felt like jelly. There was no  _ possible _ way to control it. “I’m getting close again.”

Aziraphale glanced into the mirror again, seeing the small, self-satisfied smile that Crowley had. Crowley leaned forward, pressing little kisses along Aziraphale’s shoulders. The feeling of being  _ loved _ and  _ cherished _ swelled within him, and it did nothing to help his situation. 

“You can cum, Aziraphale.” Crowley breathed. He kissed up Aziraphale’s neck, and his hot breath ghosted across his ear. “In fact, you can cum as many times as you’d like tonight, starting now.”

The implications of the statement poured gasoline on the fire that was Aziraphale’s libido, and he felt the ascent he had already felt so many times tonight begin again. But this time? This time, Crowley wasn’t going to stop, wasn’t going to tell him no. This time, he wouldn’t be denied. 

He would be  _ deliciously indulged _ . 

Aziraphale didn’t have  _ time _ to reach down and pump himself. He came with a startled cry, muscles contracting around Crowley as his vision whited out, hot spurts of cum hitting his chest as well as the bedsheets. It felt like it went on  _ forever _ , and Crowley never stopped his steady pace, moving in and out of Aziraphale, fucking him through his orgasm. 

Through his orgasm, and beyond. 

“Color?” Crowley inquired. Aziraphale felt so fucking sensitive. Every nerve in his body was a live wire, and Crowley was a bathtub he had just been dunked in by some careless dunce who didn’t know how electricity worked. 

“Green,” Aziraphale said, desperately. The hot, insistent pleasure didn’t let up. Crowley continued to thrust, rolling into Aziraphale slowly. 

Crowley’s forehead pressed against his back, and Aziraphale felt the hotness of his breath. He heard a sudden ruffling of feathers, and glanced up into the mirror. He realized with a sudden jolt of surprise that the sound had come from  _ him _ . 

Crowley’s face was now positioned between his wings, spreading out to either side of them. 

Crowley looked up sharply, their eyes meeting in the mirror as he smiled. “‘S this okay?” He asked, reaching out to run his fingers along Aziraphale’s feathers. Aziraphale cried out, his wings fluttering at the sensation. His too-sensitive cock gave a firm, interested twitch, and Aziraphale cursed himself for allowing them to manifest. 

“Yes,” He hissed, dizzy with the onslaught of sensation. Crowley’s fingers dug harder into his sensitive feathers, and Aziraphale felt his cock hardening again. 

There was another shift in the air as Crowley brought his own wings out. Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he saw them in the mirror, splayed out behind him. Crowley looked ancient and powerful like this, with his raven’s wings pointed towards the sky and his glowing yellow eyes focussing so intently on Aziraphale. 

Crowley’s wings swooped forward, his feathers brushing lightly against Aziraphale’s. It was a sign of love, a sign of protection. A gentle stimulation that drove Aziraphale absolutely mad as Crowley’s wings shifted against his with every lazy thrust. 

His cock was fully aroused now, seemingly undeterred by his first orgasm of the night. Crowley seemed to know this, because he reached around and trailed a hand teasingly down Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale shook with  _ want _ , his head swimming as Crowley’s fingers brushed along his hip bones. 

“Crowley,” He complained, his hips giving a small buck. He blushed furiously. 

“Is there something you want, Angel?” Crowley mocked, letting his fingers just  _ slightly _ brush up against Aziraphale’s too-sensitive cock. Aziraphale let out a frantic cry, unable to stop himself with the pleasure that was coursing through his body. 

“Touch me,” Aziraphale begged. The wonderful sensation of Crowley sliding into his body again and again was undeniably amazing, but he wanted-- he  _ needed _ \-- to feel Crowley’s hand on his cock. 

“Where?” Crowley purred, running a hand between their two wings and stroking even deeper into Aziraphale’s feathers. Aziraphale felt his face burn, and he looked up to see Crowley’s eyes zeroed in on him. He gulped. 

“My cock,” He said, his voice verging on desperation. Then, he pulled out the dirtiest trick in his book. “Please, Crowley. I need it.”

Crowley swallowed thickly, a possessive look crossing his face for the briefest flicker of a moment before he reached down, grabbing Aziraphale’s oversensitive cock in his hand and pumping in time with his thrusts. 

Aziraphale moaned, his hips thrusting forward and backwards as he came undone. Crowley didn’t have a free hand to stop him this time, and the upset to his rhythm chipped away at the careful control Crowley had cultivated. Aziraphale thought he might sob with relief when Crowley abandoned his slow and steady rhythm and began fucking into him in earnest. 

“Sooooo good, Angel,” Crowley praised, fucking into Aziraphale hard and fast now. “Feels so good around my cock.”

Aziraphale’s overstimulated body felt another wave of that glorious heat, and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He simultaneously anticipated and dreaded his sweet release, knowing that it would be wonderful, but knowing as well that Crowley had no intentions of letting up, and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. 

“Crowley,” He groaned, his overstimulation surging to a peak as his second orgasm rocked its way through him. He spilled himself onto Crowley’s hand, and Crowley thankfully pulled off of touching him. 

“Fuck,” Crowley swore, softly. Aziraphale was twitching around him, his body’s pleasure still peaked above what it found comfortable, his cock still twitching weakly as Crowley pounded against his prostate. 

He felt a soft miracle wash through the room, and Crowley’s thrusts slowed, just a bit. But still… it was enough for Aziraphale to know what he had done. 

“That’s--Hnng!-- Cheating, Crowley!” He argued. 

Crowley stuck out his forked tongue at Aziraphale in the mirror. “Demon, remember?”

“You can’t-- Aaaah!” Aziraphale had to break off for a moment as Crowley adjusted his angle, pressing even harder against his abused prostate, “You can’t miracle yourself more stamina!”

“Just did.” Crowley informed him, smirking like a devil. Aziraphale wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew that they would probably just end up rolling into the back of his head. Crowley was still moving, acting like he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Aziraphale wondered how much more of this he could take before he lost the ability to communicate. He barely registered Crowley’s voice, soft in his ear. 

“Color?” He questioned. 

“Green.” Aziraphale responded. Crowley stroked down his wing again and he cried out, unable to stop himself. Crowley responded by returning to his punishing speed, railing into Aziraphale’s prostate with confident vigor as he listened to the angel come apart.

Once Crowley had decided he had had enough of a break, his hand snuck down between Aziraphale’s legs again. Desire burned hot over every inch of his body as he felt himself, through some sort of twisted miracle, begin to harden again. 

“Do you think you could give me one more?” Crowley questioned. Aziraphale was torn between everything that he felt, everything that he wanted. It had been awhile since he had last been overstimulated this way, and he had to admit that nobody else had ever shown the  _ skill _ with it that Crowley had. 

“Sensitive.” Aziraphale responded. Crowley’s grip on his cock loosened, and Aziraphale let out a whine of frustration at the loss of sensation. 

“My apologies,” Crowley said, his hand tightening again. Aziraphale cried out again, his throat feeling hoarse from the constant stream of noise he’d been letting loose since they began. 

He hated asking for it. Hated it, because he knew that Crowley would give it and he knew that he was pushing his own limits, trying to see where pleasure really did taper off into pain, trying to see just how far over that line he could cross before it became unbearable, but he asked anyways. “Faster, please!”

Crowley complied immediately, so fast it made Aziraphale feel dizzy. Or maybe that was the uptick in the already overflowing pleasure, burning hot in his stomach. Crowley gave a soft grunt, and Aziraphale knew that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed right now. 

“You like taking my cock?” Crowley questioned. Aziraphale let the filthy words wash over him, and he nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yes!” He cried out, an impossible wave of pleasure washing over Aziraphale as his final orgasm began to build. 

“I’ll bet I could go as fast, as  _ hard _ as I wanted to.” Crowley speculated, his breath hot in Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale risked a glance up, and he saw those yellow eyes, pupils as wide as Crowley was capable of showing as he whispered filth in Aziraphale’s ear. “You’d like it, as long as I’m  _ using _ you.”

Aziraphale felt a shutter, and another wave of too-hot pleasure tore through his body. He cried out, unable to stop himself. 

“Yes!” He confirmed, “Please, Crowley. I’m yours.”

Crowley let out a low, possessive growl. Aziraphale  _ keened _ as he felt Crowley’s teeth nip firmly against the pack of his neck. Crowley smoothed over the bite with a soft pass of his tongue, and his voice was absolutely feral as he confirmed, “ _ Mine, Angel _ .”

Aziraphale felt the final wave crash over him, quicker than he could handle. He spasmed again, his cock giving a feeble twitch as pleasure burned through him one last time, a small spurt of cum accompanying his hardest orgasm yet as Crowley continued to pound into him. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice was suddenly more desperate. “‘M close. Want me to pull out, or-”

“ _ Don’t _ .” Aziraphale cried, incredibly offended at the idea. “Inside, please. Finish inside me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were zeroed in on Crowley’s face as the pleasure of his orgasm washed over him. Crowley’s hips stuttered, burying him swiftly to the hilt as he came. Aziraphale felt a kind of perverse satisfaction as he felt the hot liquid slicken him further. Crowley gave a few more shallow thrusts, milking himself dry as he came down from his high. 

Aziraphale felt him slip out, and loving kisses were pressed to his shoulders. 

He knew he should be embarrassed. He knew he should be worried, having declared himself like that. ‘ _ Yours _ ’. He had flat-out told Crowley that he belonged to him, and he couldn’t find a single part of him that cared. 

Maybe it was the fact that they had almost died today, or his sloppy assurance to himself that Crowley had probably just thought of it as part of the scene. He had certainly  _ responded _ like he had thought it was a part of the scene, laying that claiming bite to Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Crowley,” He mumbled, pressing his face into the soft bed sheets, “Can you give yourself fangs?”

“Yes.” Crowley responded. He pulled away, and Aziraphale felt a small tap on his hip. “Why?”

Knowing instinctively what he wanted, Aziraphale forced his fucked-out body to cooperate as he climbed into the bed, wrapping his wings around his body. Crowley performed a small miracle, and Aziraphale found that the cum that had begun to dry on his belly was absent. 

Crowley crawled in behind him, one of his wings coming to wrap around Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale had to stop himself from letting out another moan of satisfaction as the feeling of being safe, warm, and  _ cherished _ washed over him. Crowley took Aziraphale in his arms, curling his body around his angel’s. 

“You haven’t answered my question.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale had to think for a moment before he remembered what on earth he was supposed to be answering.

“Oh! Fangs. Yes, well…” Aziraphale searched for the proper words, but his brain was loading slower than usual. “If you would ever want to use them, I would certainly not be adverse to the idea.” 

Crowley was silent for a moment, and Aziraphale suddenly worried that of all the things he’d admitted to being interested in so far, this was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. 

“I always knew there was something to it when I found that copy of  _ Twilight _ in your reading nook.”

“I have to make sales somehow!” He defended. 

“It was in  _ your personal nook _ , Angel. You and I both know that you don’t let customers anywhere near that section of the shop.”

“It was misplaced.”

“You have a vampire kink.”

“You have a kink for being the biggest bother possible.” Aziraphale shot back. “And I was more interested in the primal aspect of it, thank you very much.”

“So am I." Crowley grinned. "I just saw an opportunity to tease you, and I took it.”

“You always take opportunities to tease me.” Aziraphale responded. He could feel Crowley smile against his skin, and comfort washed over him. 

“You make it too easy, Angel.” Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale could feel his sleepiness, and it was infectious. He found himself not responding, letting out a large yawn instead. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to worry about anything at the moment. Crowley had really and truly fucked his mind into a state of blissful blankness to rival that of a fanfiction writer’s document thirty minutes into trying to write. 

So, for now, he would let himself fall asleep. 

Crowley shifted against him, the subtle caress of feathers against Aziraphale’s skin making him sigh.  
“Goodnight.” Crowley mumbled. 

“Goodnight.” Aziraphale whispered.

He faded into a blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments I've been getting lately <3 Sorry this is late, I've been, uh. Going through it, to be honest.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re in the end stretch here, folks! Time for Anathema and Newt’s so-stupid-it’s-brilliant plan.

“I’m so glad to see you!” Anathema cried, pulling Aziraphale into a hard hug. Aziraphale froze for a moment, shocked. “You could have  _ died _ .”

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale returned her hug, patting her back awkwardly. “We didn’t.”

“Big thanks to you for that, I might add.” Crowley said. Anathema pulled away from Aziraphale and laid her eyes on the demon. She surged forward, grabbing Crowley and wrapping him in a similar hug. Aziraphale smiled, feeling a bit smug. 

“I’m so glad the two of you are safe.” Anathema mumbled. Crowley’s entire face had gone red before she had pulled away. 

“We’re incredibly lucky to have a friend who was as smart as you.” Aziraphale informed her. Because really, they were. 

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.” Anathema said, dismissively. Then she turned, walking towards the kitchen. Aziraphale understood that they were meant to follow, and he grabbed Crowley’s arm, pulling him forward. 

“Don’t manhandle me.” Crowley said. It was clear that he was teasing, so Aziraphale took no offense to the accusation. 

“My apologies.” Aziraphale responded, removing his hand. Then, with mischief sparkling in his eyes, “I was under the impression that you quite  _ liked _ being manhandled.”

“Different context!” Crowley hissed, defensively. Aziraphale laughed, and watched as Crowley turned away stubbornly to hide his own mixture of embarrassment and amusement. 

“Have you two discussed what information we should put in the book?” Anathema questioned, bringing them out of their own little world. She leaned against the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in her hands, and Newt sat at the table with some calligraphy equipment and old, yellowed paper. “Or is that something we should figure out together?”

While they were no longer giving their allegiances to heaven and hell, Aziraphale and Crowley still had to deal with the issue of the imminent danger that Anathema was in. They figured that they might as well go ahead and handle this themselves, before things got out of hand. Aziraphale assumed that heaven would consider the matter closed if he provided them with what they had asked for, instead of assigning someone else to the case.

Aziraphale thought for a moment. 

“Any spells you’ve tried from the heavier reading should be included.” He informed her. “But anything that would incapacitate an angel or a demon should be altered. We want them to have the book and think that the Tadfield problem is taken care of, but we don’t want them to be able to actually use any of it.”

“But if it didn’t work,” Anathema said, slowly, “How would they have picked up the spells on the radar?”

“Pity we can’t just tell them that it was us.” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale turned towards him. “Well, we  _ could _ . And that would likely be smart at this point. But they’re still going to ask for a collection of spells capable of setting off that sort of a signal. It takes a lot of magic to set off the radars of both heaven  _ and _ hell.”

“...We could write it in code?” Newt suggested. “I mean, a fake code. One that they can never figure out. Replace ingredients with other ingredients and claim that we had cracked it. You aren’t under heaven or hell’s control anymore, right? They can’t force you to explain it.”

“But they  _ could _ kidnap us and  _ try _ .” Crowley informed him. “And they likely  _ would _ , at some point. I’m as much of a masochist as any self-respecting demon, but I’m not exactly pulling at the bit for a turn on the torture rack.”

Aziraphale felt a tight anger constrict his throat at the thought. 

“Why don’t you just destroy part of it?” Anathema suggested, suddenly. “Send it up all burnt! Half of the spells on every page are missing. Ward it against miracles, so they can’t restore it.”

“Yes! And we could,” Aziraphale caught on, his brain immediately taking the idea and running with it, “Leave the parts of the book that we’re burning  _ blank _ , so when they  _ do _ try to restore it, they won’t be able to tell why half of the spells are missing! They won’t know we were intentionally hiding information from them.”

“Also might suggest that some…  _ higher power _ doesn’t want them to have the information.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale could have kissed him in that moment, but wouldn’t have. 

Last night hadn’t given him any special ideas. He  _ did _ still know that Crowley was simply his friend, and nothing more. They hadn’t discussed the things that were said in the heat of the moment and Aziraphale assumed that they never would (they had been a part of the scene and nothing more), but Aziraphale knew how the conversation would go if they did.

Aziraphale was going to have to be grateful for all the ways in which he  _ did _ get to have Crowley, instead of mourning all the ways that he didn’t. 

“That’s pretty brilliant.” Newton put in, nodding. 

“Alright, we have a plan.” Anathema said. “Let’s get to work. First, we should-”

Newton looked back at her with his eyebrows raised, and interrupted her train of thought quite abruptly. “Shouldn’t we  _ split up _ , Love?” He questioned. “Maybe you and Crowley go and handle finding the spells while Aziraphale and I start to believably transcribe them?”

“Oh!” Anathema exclaimed, eyes going wide. Her and Newton shared a significant look, and she changed her tone. “Yes! That would go  _ so much _ faster!”

“I  _ did _ just take a calligraphy class.” Aziraphale said, considering. “Yes, that sounds fine to me. Just make sure you don’t leave anything out! We don’t need heaven and hell getting suspicious.”

“Agreed.” Crowley agreed. 

“Alright then,” Anathema waved him forward, and Crowley walked around the table. She turned to Aziraphale and Newton. “Just start with some basic stuff. We’ll also need a good amount of filler if this is going to be believable.”

She flounced out of the room, and Crowley followed along behind her. In the silence, Aziraphale looked at Newton. He could tell that something had just been communicated between him and Anathema, but he couldn’t for the life of him discern  _ what _ . 

“So,” Newt said, casually. “Do you want to… Start by teaching me some calligraphy?”

Aziraphale perked up, the strangeness of their communication forgotten. “Of course! It’s practically a dying artform. Shame it has to be in these circumstances, but everyone should know some basic calligraphy.”

Aziraphale grabbed some scratch paper and one of the pens, walking around the table so he could give Newton a better demonstration. 

~~~

Anathema sat with sticky tabs stuck to each of her fingers, furiously combing through one of her books. Crowley was meant to be picking assorted filler spells from her vast collection, but found himself more drawn to watching her work. 

“I’m almost done with this.” She informed him, glancing up. “Are you getting close with yours?”

Crowley shoved some tabs in some random pages and gave her a thumbs up. Anathema rolled her eyes, but he saw her grin. 

It didn’t take long until she was handing him the book, thirteen little tabs indicating the spells that she had used over the last few months. “Here you are. Bring this first batch out to them, will you?”

Crowley mumbled something akin to a yes and grabbed the book, stacking his own haphazard picks on top of it. He walked out and down the hall, into the kitchen. Aziraphale was leaned over a perfect rendition of the alphabet, helping a shaking Newton reproduce the letter ‘E’. Crowley sat the books on the table and Aziraphale looked up. 

“Thank you, Dear.” He said, smiling. Crowley grinned at him, trying not to blush. Aziraphale’s little pet names  _ always _ got to him. 

“Long day ahead.” Crowley warned, waving him off. He turned, and walked back down the hall towards Anathema.

She seemed to be already halfway through another one of her volumes, flipping through page after page and moving to the next one soon as she saw that she hadn’t used one spell. Her fingers worked fast, and Crowley was suddenly scared that they would finish first, and have to help with the calligraphy. 

His handwriting was absolute rubbish. 

“So,” Anathema said, glancing up. Her fingers slowed on the pages as Crowley ran his hands along the spine of another volume. “How is your arrangement holding up?”

Crowley froze, but forced himself to remain calm. He slid the book off of the shelf as he contemplated how to respond. He ultimately decided that playing dumb was his best bet. “We aren’t in the service of heaven and hell any longer, so miracles and temptations and the lot aren’t really necessary.”

Usually, he’d be fine discussing sex with someone. Especially someone like Anathema, who seemed so open about it. But she also seemed incredibly perceptive, and Crowley had a sneaking suspicion that she was catching onto his feelings for Aziraphale. And that was not a topic that Crowley particularly wanted to discuss.

“That’s not the arrangement I’m talking about, and you know it.” Anathema said. Her voice was smug. 

“I…” Crowley struggled to choose his words, “We… Continued our arrangement last night. I don’t know why you’re asking about it now.”

“Because,” Anathema explained, slowly, “There was no  _ reason _ for you to continue your “arrangement” last night. Hell won’t be checking up on you any more. You two were doing it for practice, yes?”

Crowley processed this slowly, like a computer coming back from a Windows 10 update. 

“Ummm,” He said. “I don’t… Think that either of us realized that.”

And Crowley was telling the truth, of course. The  _ only _ reason he had propositioned Aziraphale last night was because this thought hadn’t struck him yet. If he had realized that practicing was no longer necessary, he would have let Aziraphale go back to his own bed and cried himself to sleep a little bit.

“Hmmm.” Anathema hummed. She turned the page, completely unaware of the inner turmoil that she had just caused in Crowley. Because Aziraphale was going to realize that they didn’t have to practice anymore, and last night will have been the last time. Her voice interrupted his thoughts again. “It’s pretty unlike Aziraphale, isn’t it? To just… Not think of that?”

Crowley considered this, but not for long. “He was under duress.” He commented, dryly. “Not many people would have thought of it, after the day we had had. I’m sure he’ll remember tonight, and we’ll-”

“Just keep fucking until one of you works up the balls to confess your undying love for one another?” Anathema suggested. 

Crowley let out an angry, scared hiss. “Quiet! These walls aren’t soundproof!” 

Anathema’s smug face said it all, and Crowley buried his face in the book he was holding to avoid looking at her. He definitely needed to work on thinking before he spoke, especially in the presence of someone with enough evil to rival even him. 

“I’m serious, you know.” Anathema said, after a moment. 

“Please drop this.” Crowley said. He had  _ just _ been confronted with the possibility that Aziraphale and him might lose their physical relationship, and he couldn’t think about the emotional one that they would never even have right now. 

“You two love each other.” Anathema ignored him, ploughing on. Her voice rang too loud in his ears, and Crowley shoved down the anxiety in his chest that Aziraphale would hear them. Crowley reminded himself that he was probably too focussed on his calligraphy to hear  _ anything _ at this point. 

“No,” Crowley corrected, harshly. “ _ I _ love  _ him _ . He’s been happy with being friends for six-thousand years and friends-with-benefits for the last couple months. But that’s all it is for him.”

Anathema was silent for a moment, and Crowley prayed that it meant that she had dropped the topic. The silence continued, and Crowley began to relax. 

“You and Aziraphale seem to disagree on that.” She said, quietly. So quietly, in fact, that Crowley hardly heard her. 

“What?” He asked, confused. 

“You. And Aziraphale. Disagree. On that.” She said, every word punctuated. Crowley blinked at her. 

“Disagree on what?” He asked. He had a feeling he knew what she was saying, but he wasn’t going to respond unless he had it absolutely clarified. He was halfway hoping she would take this as a sign of his unbreakable stupidity and decide that talking about it any further was a waste of time. 

“Disagree that he loves you, of course.”

Crowley snorted. It was cruel to laugh at this, but only to himself. It was further masochism that caused him to push, “And what makes you think that?”

“Him.” Anathema said, casually. “Told me himself that he likes you last week. Romantically, that is.”

Crowley’s whole world came to an abrupt stop. 

“What?” He asked, refusing to process what she had said. It would change his entire world. He couldn’t let himself believe it, especially not when he  _ knew _ that Aziraphale didn’t return his feelings. This was all… Some kind of joke? A misunderstanding?

“Aziraphale admitted to me that he’s in love with you.” Anathema said, firmly. “In those words. Nothing ambiguous about it. Said he didn’t think you liked him back. Which is why I’m telling you now.”

“He said-” Crowley’s heart was hammering, his head was spinning. Barely contained joy mingled with never-contained anxiety. “What?”

“Do I really need to repeat myself?” Anathema questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“He had to have-- There has to be a misunderstanding.” Crowley said. “All this time. I would have known, wouldn’t I? If he had feelings for me.”

“By that logic,” Anathema said, her eyes returning to her book as if disinterested by the conversation, “He would have already figured out how you felt by now, too.”

Crowley felt his chest constrict. He was breathing hard. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and the hope that had never truly died had surged up strong enough to choke him. He felt dizzy. He was certain that by all accounts, he shouldn’t be believing this nonsense. But there was a crazy, stupid part of him that wanted it to be real bad enough that it  _ believed _ Anathema. 

Anathema continued to turn the pages of the book that she was holding, her fingers moving over the pages as she continued to mark where she had practiced. This book had about twenty little sticky tabs in it before she finally snapped it closed, handing it over to Crowley. Crowley took it, his own book untouched, and stared at it numbly. 

“Aren’t you going to go take that to Aziraphale?” She asked, her eyes shining. 

Crowley nodded, dumbly. 

He stood, approaching the doorway. He didn’t feel like this was real, needed time to think through everything that Anathema had told him. He couldn’t risk rushing into anything. Not to mention that he… Oh, what was that expression? Didn’t have the balls for it. 

“Okay.” He said, slipping out of the room. 

He walked down the hallway, and into the kitchen. On autopilot, he walked towards the table. Aziraphale and Newton had both completed several pages, leaving one side of them blank along a curvature. They would burn that section, Crowley knew. 

“Um. Here you are.” He said. Aziraphale looked up, his eyes shining.

“Thank you!” He said. 

Crowley stared at him. He wondered whether or not he  _ would _ be able to tell, if Aziraphale felt anything… Romantic. He had always thought he could read his angel like an open book, but then again… He hadn’t exactly guessed the whole kink thing either, had he? There were always new things about Aziraphale that surprised him. Why not this?

“Um.” He said, the pinnacle of intelligence. Aziraphale’s brows furrowed.

“Is there something wrong?” Aziraphale questioned, concerned. 

Crowley could just… Ask, couldn’t he? He had a reason to, now. Anathema had told him a lie-- because of  _ course _ it was a lie-- so he could play it off as trying to correct the record when his angel told him his feelings weren’t reciprocated. Aziraphale might not even question Crowley’s feelings towards him, under the circumstances. This was his chance. This was quite possibly the only chance he would have with such a clear-cut way out.

Crowley had to think fast. Aziraphale was looking at him.

His heart was pounding, his hands were sweating. The room felt like it was narrowing in on him. 

He made a bold decision.

“Everything is fine!” He said, turning and walking back down the hallway. He refused to look back, hoping that Aziraphale would write it off as his usual weirdness. 

He walked back into the room with Anathema, and she barely glanced up. 

“You should have asked what you  _ so clearly _ wanted to ask.” She said.

“Shut up.” He responded. He walked over to the shelf and grabbed another book from it, pulling it close to his chest. He sank to the floor and opened it, furiously reading. He didn’t absorb any of it, but he didn’t really need to. 

Go-Sata- _ Someone _ , he felt like an idiot. 

~~~ 

“Well, that was a little strange.” Newton observed. Aziraphale was still staring down the hallway Crowley had retreated into, and he forced himself to look away, back towards the paper he was transcribing. 

“Just his usual weirdness, honestly.” Aziraphale informed him. Newton nodded. 

They worked in silence for a few more moments, and Aziraphale finished another page. He grabbed a sheet of paper and moved on to the next spell. Newton, who worked slower than him, was currently working on copying the fillers. 

“You know,” He said, casually, “Maybe one of the reasons Crowley acts so weird is because he’s… Because he’s in love with you?”

Aziraphale froze. 

It was so quiet in the kitchen he could hear the ticking of his watch.

“That’s preposterous.” He said, dipping his pen in ink before bringing it back to the paper. His next few strokes were a little bit sharper than they had to be.

“What makes you say that?” Newton asked. Aziraphale shook his head, sighing. He tried not to answer it, he really did. He tried to just concentrate on his work. But now that the subject had come up, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He needed to lay this to rest. 

“He isn’t in love with me.” Aziraphale said, earnestly. “Crowley is smart. Incredibly observant. If he was in love with me, well… If he was looking for that kind of connection, I am most certain he would have noticed by now that I’m head over heels for him.”

Newton cocked his head to the side. Aziraphale ignored him, feeling as though the issue had been put to rest. He dipped his pen in ink again and put it to the paper, concentrating on trying to get through the unreasonable workload they had.

“Huh.” He said, casually. “I wonder what he meant when he told me he was in love with you, then.”

Aziraphale’s hand twitched, completely ruining the letter he was on.

“Oh, that won’t do.” He mumbled, crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the rubbish bin. He grabbed a fresh sheet, and laid it out in front of him. Then, he addressed Newton for what was hopefully the last time on the subject. “He meant it platonically.”

“That’s definitely not what he said to me.” Newt argued. 

“What,  _ exactly _ , did he say?” Aziraphale asked. He resisted the sudden, irrational urge to snap his pen in half. He was feeling a little bit stressed, that was all. 

“He said he’d been in love with you for awhile, and that you were totally oblivious to it. Said something about friendship, too. Can’t remember the exact words now. It happened while we were at the bowling alley. I don’t think he really meant to tell me, and-” Newton’s face fell, “-I… Can kind of see why, now. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Aziraphale looked at Newton, feeling completely dumbfounded. 

“...You’re saying that Crowley has romantic inclinations towards me?” Aziraphale questioned. 

“Oh, yes.” Newton confirmed, nodding. “He was very explicit about it.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say, or how to feel. His hands were sweating. His head was screaming at him that he needed to get some fresh air. He didn’t know where he would go to get it. He had heard Alpha Centauri was nice this time of year  _ somewhere _ , hadn’t he?

“Oh. Right then.” Aziraphale said. He looked at the book of spells, forcing himself to concentrate. This was a lot to process, and they didn’t have much time to get this done. He needed to concentrate,  _ not _ to allow himself to get swept up in a whirlwind of speculation. 

Crowley’s footsteps echoed down the hall again all too soon. Aziraphale kept his eyes glued to the paper, refusing to look up. He didn’t want to see Crowley’s eyes right now. He was too scared he would bear his soul. 

It… Had to be a misunderstanding, didn’t it?

“Batch three.” Crowley informed him. 

Aziraphale’s eyes glanced up without their permission. Crowley’s eyes were full of emotion, something that he couldn’t pinpoint. Aziraphale assumed that it had to be… Well, he didn’t. Aziraphale couldn’t assume anything anymore. 

Which also meant that he couldn’t assume that Newton was wrong. 

He felt like his entire world had just been flipped upside-down, capsized, was slowly sinking into the sea. He felt the question burning on the tip of his tongue. It would only take one second to ask, only the briefest moment to know for sure. Newton could then… Apologize for his error, if he had been wrong. And Aziraphale could say that he’d just wanted to… let Crowley down easy, maybe?

“Coming along nicely, then. Thank you.” Aziraphale heard the voice, and it took him a moment to realize that it had come from him. 

“Welcome.” Crowley mumbled. He sulked back into Anathema’s study, and Aziraphale watched him walk. 

“...Are you going to go confess?” Newton pressed. Aziraphale bit his lip, pulling his attention back to the papers. 

He couldn’t risk their friendship. He just… Didn’t believe that Crowley was interested in him that way. There was no way in Hell he wouldn’t have noticed by now. 

“No.” He said, firmly. 

Newton looked shocked. Aziraphale dutifully ignored him, allowing the disbelief to fuel the uncomfortable silence that settled between them. 

~~~

After  _ hours _ of work, it was finally done. Aziraphale and Crowley were standing by their front door, each of them holding a copy of a half-burnt witchcraft compilation. One to send to heaven, one to send to hell. 

“Call me when you get home.” Anathema said, sternly. Aziraphale nodded, and she grinned. “Alright, you two. Best be off.”

“Thank you again.” Aziraphale said. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” Crowley informed her. She tried not to let her eye twitch. 

The two of them left, climbing into the bentley. Crowley sped out of their driveway at record speeds, and she knew without a doubt that there was going to be an  _ abundance _ of awkward silence on the way home. 

“I hate them so much.” Anathema said, turning to Newt. 

“What? Why?” He questioned. 

“Because,” She said, “They’re the smartest idiots on the face of the planet.”

“We can think of another plan.” He promised her. He spun her around by the sounders, and tilted her chin up. Anathema felt her heart give an excited flutter, and she smiled. “Besides, this one could still work. We won’t really know until the  _ next _ time we see them.”

She moved close to him, and his arms fell around her. She pressed a firm kiss to his lips, and he melted. 

“In the mean time,” She suggested, “Why don’t we go decompress?”

“That sounds  _ wonderful _ ,” Newt breathed. Anathema grinned. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I waited to update so that I could justify giving you two chapters at once.

Crowley was certain that he was the source of the uncomfortable silence. There was no other explanation. Aziraphale was usually chattering away, especially after their visits to Anathema. Today, he was stone-cold silent.

Crowley couldn’t bring himself to break it. 

They pulled up outside of their flat, and Crowley glanced over. Aziraphale looked stressed out. And really, who could blame him? Crowley supposed that your best friend suddenly acting like a sulky teenage vampire for reasons you couldn’t discern would be hard on anyone. 

He had to get over this. He had to loosen up. 

“Want to drink some wine?” He offered. Aziraphale looked over towards him, eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Oh, that sounds  _ lovely _ .” He gushed. “Do we still have that Zinfandel? Or did we drink that last week?”

Crowley waved a hand, and in the flat, a fresh bottle appeared on their shelf. 

“Why don’t we go find out?”

It didn’t take long, once they were inside. Aziraphale put the books safely in his room, and he came back to find that Crowley had already poured them two large glasses. Crowley watched as his angel swirled the liquid around in his cup, watching the deep red circle all the way up to the rim before backing off, slowing the tilt of his wrist. 

Crowley chugged his first glass standing right there, still at the counter. They managed to make it to the couch before he started on his second. 

By the time he had finished pouring his, Aziraphale’s glass was empty. He looked back and forth between the angel’s outstretched hand and his face, which was a careful mask. He poured Aziraphale his own second glass, and topped his off while he had a hand on the bottle. 

That being said, it did not take long for two celestial beings to get absolutely smashed when they were drinking like the world ending hadn’t already been foiled just a couple of months ago. 

Aziraphale was sprawled out across the couch, his head in Crowley’s lap. Crowley was running a hand affectionately through his angel’s hair. 

“All I’m saying,” He said, drunkenly, “Is that being a snake is  _ fun _ . And I know that sounds stupid!”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me.” Aziraphale cut in. “I quite like you being my snake. You’re wonderfully mischievous.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Crowley declared, proudly raising his glass. A couple of drops of wine sloshed out, and would have hit the carpet if he hadn’t miracled them away before they could. “Think maybe I’ve had enough?”

“I don’t think it would be a bad idea to stop and take a break.” Aziraphale said. He reached up, taking Crowley’s glass gingerly from his hands. He leaned over, placing them on the coffee table before rolling back towards Crowley. 

“You’re so warm,” Crowley said. Crowley  _ always _ talked about how warm Aziraphale was when they had these drinking sessions. He wanted to soak all of it in. And there was no better way to get Aziraphale to give him a full-body cuddle. 

“You’re warm too.” Aziraphale said. “I hope you know that.”

“Shut up.” Crowley hissed. “I’m a cold-blooded demon.”

“And a  _ lovely _ person.” Aziraphale said, reaching up to lightly boop Crowley on the nose. Crowley pulled back, absolutely offended at the angel’s audacity. He conveniently ignored that he was glowing from the praise. 

“Oh, hush. Keep going like this, you’re going to tell me that you love me.”

There was a tangible shift in the air. Crowley felt it. It was sudden, and harsh. It practically sobered him up, that did. 

Aziraphale was staring at him with that blank look he always gave when he was hiding something. Crowley wondered what it could possibly be, but he remembered then how Anathema had told him. And he wondered… Had she told Aziraphale what Crowley had said, later? Had Aziraphale corrected her misconceptions on his own feelings?

Did Aziraphale  _ know _ that Crowley loved him?

“Why did we do that, last night?” Aziraphale asked, evenly. Crowley felt his chest tighten. “We don’t have to practice anymore.”

“I…” Crowley knew he had an excuse buried in there somewhere, but he had already forgotten it. He finally settled on a half-truth, too disoriented to be able to tell Aziraphale anything else. “I didn’t even think about it. Just wanted you.”

Aziraphale sat up, slowly. He peered at Crowley, and Crowley stared at the now-cool place where his head had laid. When Aziraphale responded, his voice was soft, barely a whisper. 

“...How do you want me, Crowley?”

The words were the quietest words Aziraphale had ever spoken to him. They were also the loudest. 

Crowley froze. His heart hammered in his chest, and he tried to stop himself from looking at Aziraphale, tried to stop himself from seeing his Angel pitying him. He really did. But Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes were magnetic; Crowley was powerless to stop himself from swimming in their depths. 

His mouth was dry. 

He still hadn’t responded. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. His hand shook as he reached up, slowly. Crowley leaned into the touch as soon as he felt those soft fingers against his cheek. “At… At the beginning of this, you said that kissing on the lips was off-limits.”

Crowley forced his eyes shut, cursing himself for being so transparent. The sting of rejection settled low in his chest, and he couldn’t watch his whole world fall apart like this. He knew what conclusions Aziraphale was drawing, knew the question he was asking without asking. And he  _ knew _ that Aziraphale was about to let him down gently, explain that he thought of Crowley only as a dear friend. He had figured Crowley’s game, and Crowley was about to be short his player two. 

“Would you like to revisit that?”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open. 

“What?” He asked, breathlessly. Then, when uncertainty flashed across Aziraphale’s face, he quickly corrected himself, “Yes! I mean,  _ yes _ , Angel. Yes. If that’s… If that’s something that you would want.  _ Please _ .”

Aziraphale’s eyes dropped to Crowley’s lips, and Crowley felt suddenly  _ dizzy _ with want. “How about we sober up?”

Crowley raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The wine was suddenly purged from their systems. He had no idea where it had ended up. Didn’t much care, at the moment. 

Because he was sober. And so was Aziraphale. And they were staring at each other in a darkened room, both of them silently daring the other one to make the next move. Crowley didn’t have the faintest idea how long they sat there, looking, on the razor’s edge of a line he had been skirting too close to for six thousand years now. 

“Change your mind?” Crowley asked, trying to ignore the devastation that wracked through him at the thought. 

“No.” Aziraphale said, firmly. Crowley’s heartbeat quickened. “Did you?”

“ _ Never _ .” Crowley breathed. 

He had no idea which of them it was, but the space between them was suddenly much smaller. Aziraphale’s breath ghosted across his lips, and Crowley let out a needy whine as he  _ finally _ felt the first soft brush of Aziraphale’s lips across his own. 

It was like every good thing that had ever happened to him was all happening again, in this moment. 

Aziraphale groaned, his other hand coming up to grasp the other side of Crowley’s face, cradling him. Crowley reached out, greedily, and grabbed Aziraphale’s shirt. He tugged, trying to get the angel as close as he could. 

Crowley, realizing that this wasn’t close  _ enough _ , broke them apart with a soft growl. He swung his body off the couch and around towards it, his knees landing on either side of Aziraphale’s legs as he climbed into the angel’s lap. He connected their lips again with fervor, and felt a deep chuckle against his lips. Aziraphale pulled away, and unfettered emotion swam in his eyes. 

“I love you!” Crowley blurted. 

“I love you, too.” Aziraphale responded. Crowley melted, leaning forward again to capture Aziraphale in an absolutely  _ searing _ kiss. God, he was starving for this. 

Aziraphale’s hands explored his body before settling on his hips. Crowley’s hands were splayed across the Angel’s chest as they kissed. Aziraphale’s tongue ran delicately across Crowley’s lower lip, and Crowley eagerly accepted him in. 

Aziraphale was tentative, but clearly practiced. His tongue rolled against Crowley’s in a way that had the demon practically purring with delight. 

Crowey pushed gently against Aziraphale’s tongue as the fire in them quelled, the urgency diminished. Kiss after kiss after kiss filled the void he had been nursing for six-thousand years. His fingers tangled in Aziraphale’s hair and his hips gave the occasional sultry roll as Aziraphale laid claim to his mouth. 

Crowley felt happier than he had ever felt before.

He could have this. 

He could have  _ Aziraphale _ .

When Crowley finally broke away, he was panting heavily and his lips were buzzing and sore from use. “Why the hell haven’t we been doing that the whole time?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “You said that it was off limits.”

“Oh, right.” Crowley remembered. “Something about it being too romantic. Thought it might make me want to confess.”

“I’m most certainly glad that you did.” Aziraphale said, softly. Crowley scoffed. 

“You’re the one who told Anathema you loved me last week.” He admitted. “I would have never said anything if it hadn’t been for that.”

Aziraphale froze, glancing up at Crowley with confusion in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” He said, shocked. “But I never did any such thing. In fact,” Crowley shifted back, trying not to let his shock show, “Newton told me today that you had admitted such feelings to  _ him _ , towards the beginning of this new arrangement.”

“I NEVER-” Crowley spat, offended. “Do you really think I would pour my heart out to him?! I thought he hated me up until a couple of weeks ago!”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other for a long time, each of them slowly putting together the puzzle pieces as they worked out what had happened. 

“They got us to confess.” Aziraphale said. “They told both of us that the other had feelings so we would talk about them.”

The realization sat in the air between them.

“I’m going to kill them.” Crowley said, simply. 

“Oh, come off it.” Aziraphale scolded. “Without them, this would have never happened. We’re both happy. And can you even  _ imagine _ how many more years we would have danced around this if we hadn’t been pushed in the right direction?”

“Yeah, but what if they had been  _ wrong _ ?” Crowley argued. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. He reached up to grasp Crowley’s face again, knowing that it would turn Crowley to mush. Crowley melted, leaning into Aziraphale’s warm hands as he was overcome again with the urge to kiss him silly. God, he didn’t know  _ how many _ kisses there were going to be now that they had finally broken through this. “We love each other, and that’s what really matters. They  _ weren’t _ wrong.”

Crowley leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Aziraphale’s. He got the pleasure of watching Aziraphale’s pupils widen. “We must’ve been ridiculously obvious, for them to have been that confident.”

“I, for one, know that I was. It’s a shame you didn’t notice sooner.” Aziraphale teased. 

“For once,” Crowley mumbled, leaning in for a small kiss, “We agree on something.”

Aziraphale smiled and leaned forward, pressing a second little kiss to Crowley’s lips. He pulled away, but not for long. A third, longer kiss followed, and Crowley moaned against Zira’s lips as his mind went blissfully blank. 

The wall that he had held for so long, hiding his love for his angel, crumbled to the ground, and everything he had been feeling surged out like a tidal wave. All he could feel was the love that he had held in for six-thousand years, coursing through him. He wasn’t hiding it any more.

He wasn’t hiding it anymore, wasn’t keeping it tucked neatly away. 

Aziraphale gasped against his lips, and Crowley pulled back. 

“Your love,” Aziraphale said, his eyes filling with tears, “I can feel it.”

“Been saving it for a special occasion.” Crowley responded, feeling his own eyes well up in response. He firmly shoved that emotion back down because damn it all he was a  _ demon _ , and he was  _ not about _ to cry out of  _ love _ . 

“Shut up.” Aziraphale gave a breathy laugh against his lips. 

Crowley lead them into another kiss, desperate for more of the feeling of Aziraphale against his lips. If he had his way, they would kiss like this all night. Maybe even the whole next morning, too. 

Come to think of it, Crowley had the whole week free. 

In between the little kisses, declarations of thousand-year-old love were whispered into the London night. 

~~~

“So you  _ had _ realized that our arrangement was supposed to be over!” Crowley accused. Aziraphale’s sheepish look said it all. Crowley sat down, clutching the cup of warm tea in his chilly hands. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Because,” Aziraphale explained, “I thought that you must have realized it, too.”

“No!” Crowley exclaimed, “I literally just  _ didn’t think of it _ !”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, taking a bite out of the bakery muffin he had chosen for breakfast, “At least it doesn’t matter now.”

“Doesn’t  _ matter _ ?” Crowley questioned. “Angel, you  _ had _ to have thought I was in love with you after hearing that! That whole Anathema business was  _ so _ unnecessary. You could have declared yourself right then-”

“Aaah, yes, because sex and love  _ always _ go hand in hand.” Aziraphale said, sarcastically. Crowley rolled his eyes back into his head. 

“You had to have suspected.” He accused. 

Aziraphale stayed quiet for a moment, staring into his cup of tea as if it would have the answers. Crowley  _ had _ backed him into a corner, here. His eyes flickered up, and he tried not to look sheepish. “I had suspected.”

“Aha!” Crowley cried, pointing at him. “You totally knew.”

“Keep poking fun at me.” Aziraphale said, his proverbial feathers ruffling. “And I’ll make you forget how to say anything that isn’t my name.”

Crowley felt his stomach drop out from under him as a deep, primal arousal stirred under his skin. “Is that a threat, or a promise?”

“Promise.” Aziraphale responded. He looked up, locking eyes with Crowley as he sank his teeth into the muffin again, slowly chewing. Crowley felt heat flush over his face. 

“Well then,” Crowley said, defiantly. “Maybe I’ll just continue to make a nuisance of myself. You should know better than to threaten me with a good time.”

Aziraphale swallowed. His eyes raked up and down Crowley’s body, and Crowley’s skin felt hot wherever his gaze touched it. He got the intense feeling that he was being  _ appraised _ , and it almost made him want to laugh. 

As if Aziraphale hadn’t seen him a billion times-- with and without the clothes. 

Aziraphale leaned forward, leaning down. Crowley cocked his head to the side as Aziraphale grabbed the leg of the chair he was sitting on and suddenly yanked it towards him. Crowley yelped as the chair teetered before settling firmly down on all fours. Crowley noticed that Aziraphale had pulled their chairs together, which put both of them spreading their legs out to either side. 

Crowley realized that this meant he wouldn’t be  _ able  _ to close his legs. Not in this position. 

“Please, do continue.” Aziraphale told him, mischief sparkling in those eyes. Crowley defiantly pretended that this wasn’t affecting him. 

It took him a moment to remember what they had been talking about. 

“You said I went too fast for you in the sixties. How else was I supposed to interpret that?” Crowley continued his nagging. “You could have initiated this at any time, and-”

Aziraphale’s hands began dragging lightly along his thighs, and Crowley’s breath caught in his throat as his cock gave an interested twitch. 

“What was that, dear?” Aziraphale asked. “I don’t quite think you finished.”

Crowley forced himself to get used to the sensation, even as his pants became much tighter. “You absolutely knew. You… We could have…” He trailed off as Aziraphale’s hands moved further and further up before running back down his legs, like a slowly building wave on the ocean. He swallowed. “Imagine how many kisses we missed out on.”

“Why don’t we make up for that now?” He offered, leaning forward. Crowley’s eyes were torn away from his hands and towards Aziraphale’s face, his half-lidded eyes promising a good time. He gasped sharply, hips bucking as Aziraphale’s hands finally rubbed over his crotch. One of Aziraphale’s hands stayed on his bulge, rubbing Crowley through his pants. 

Crowley leaned forward, his mouth captured in a delectable kiss as Aziraphale fondled him. He groaned, and Aziraphale increased the pressure. The friction was delicious, but ultimately frustrating. 

“‘Zira,” he said, scooting forward eagerly. He swung his legs over Aziraphale’s, effectively crawling into his lap. “More?”

“You’re awfully well-trained,” Aziraphale praised. “Especially with so little time and effort on my part.”

“Ssshut up!” Crowley hissed, embarrassment creeping up. 

“If you don’t let me compliment you like this,” Aziraphale said, pointedly, “Then I’ll tie you up and tell you all about how beautiful and special you are while I leave marks all over you.”

“... Again,” Crowley breathed, his cock twitching, “What about that is supposed to deter me?”

Aziraphale smiled gleefully, and unbuttoned Crowley’s jeans. Crowley moaned in relief when Aziraphale took him out, giving him a few soft strokes. “Why does it have to?”

Crowley found himself melting into Aziraphale’s expert touches, and he was quickly losing all rational thought capabilities. But he knew a proposition when he heard one, and Aziraphale was offering him something right now. Something that he desperately wanted.

“... Downstairs?” Crowley offered, giving a choked sound as Aziraphale gave the head of his cock particular attention. 

Aziraphale’s sweet, sweet motions stopped, and Crowley almost whined at the loss. Aziraphale pushed their chairs apart then, standing. Crowley’s brain caught up with his mouth and he reached down, tucking himself into his trousers again before standing, allowing Aziraphale to grab his hand and lead them downstairs. 

He didn’t button his pants again, because he knew that they would just be undone soon enough. 

Aziraphale lead them into their dungeon, and Crowley immediately worked his pants down over his hips, tossing them onto the floor. He was halfway done with the buttons on his shirt by the time Aziraphale turned around and saw what he was doing. 

“Eager now, aren’t we?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded, unable to contain his excitement. His blood was all rushing to the surface, his cock bobbing eagerly between his legs. “Alright. What do you want today, Crowley?”

Crowley paused, thinking. Well, the ropes that Aziraphale suggested sounded nice enough, sure. But honestly? Crowley wasn’t particularly keen on bondage right now. Not that he didn’t like it when they did that! But, well… There were other things on his mind. 

His eyes glanced towards the cabinet, and he thought of the litany of impact tools inside of it. 

“Paddle?” He said. Aziraphale looked pleased, so Crowley continued, “And afterwards, I think I’d like for you to penetrate me. It’s a little vanilla, but… If you’d have me in the missionary position, that would be-” Crowley watched Aziraphale’s eyes widen, and he suddenly worried that he would come across as needy. It came across in his tone as he finished the sentence with an uncertain, “-Nice?” 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, softness in his eyes, “You could want nothing but missionary for the rest of our lives and I would never once object. Whatever you want, and whatever you feel comfortable with, Love.”

Crowley felt satisfaction spark deep within him at Aziraphale’s nickname. 

“Nnnng, Whatever.” Crowley responded, looking away bashfully. 

Aziraphale’s hand was on his cheek again, pulling his face back towards his Angel’s. Crowley turned back, allowing himself to feel the full force of Aziraphale’s love and appreciation. It made him feel weak in the knees. Aziraphale’s lips were warm against his. 

“You’re so perfect,” Aziraphale breathed, against his lips. Crowley squirmed, reveling in the praise. “So beautiful.”

“‘Zira.” Crowley reminded him, stubbornly. “The paddle?”

“Right, right.” Aziraphale reluctantly pulled away, and Crowley watched with eager eyes as he walked to the wardrobe and pulled it out, inspecting it casually. The word, ‘slut’ was printed backwards into the paddle, and Crowley knew that it would be visible against his skin. “This one?”

“Yes, please.” He responded. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist, but his skin was already tingling in excitement. 

Aziraphale walked back over, his demeanor slowly shifting. When his hand touched Crowley’s face again, it wasn’t  _ just _ sweetness that was there. Those fingers traced delicately against his jawline, carding through his hair before Aziraphale’s hand turned into a fist, tugging against it. It wasn’t  _ hard _ , but it definitely wasn’t  _ soft _ , either. 

Crowley let out a startled sound, arousal pulsing through him. “Shit, Aziraphale.”

“Do you like this?” Aziraphale asked, but the question was clearly rhetorical. Crowley was already trembling, and feeling thoroughly at his lover’s mercy. 

_ His lover _ . He didn’t think he would ever stop feeling excited when he thought about it. How could he? Aziraphale was everything he had wanted for six thousand years. 

“Please,” Crowley said, hoping that Aziraphale would show him some mercy today and  _ not _ make him wait. Not that he didn’t like the waiting, of course. He just… Well, he wanted Aziraphale inside of him. Aaand he wanted his ass stinging, red and sensitive first. 

Aziraphale’s hand loosened in his hair, and Crowley whined. “Bend over.”

Crowley immediately scrambled to cooperate, bending over their bed and presenting his ass for Aziraphale. The angel walked around him, and set a hand delicately on Crowley’s back. 

“How  _ vanilla _ do you want this?” Aziraphale asked, softly. Crowley thought. 

“I… Wouldn’t mind some marks tomorrow. Bruising.”

“Twenty swats?” Aziraphale suggested. Crowley’s nose wrinkled at the word, but he still nodded. He could correct Aziraphale’s use of the word ‘swats’ later. Right now, he was simply trying to get dicked down. 

“Sounds wonderful.” Crowley agreed. Aziraphale’s hand drifted down, running along his bare skin softly, and Crowley became suddenly aware of the area. He tried to keep his breathing even as he closed his eyes, giving himself over to his physical sensations. 

Aziraphale’s hand withdrew, and it didn’t take long for the paddle to land with precision across one of his cheeks. Crowley let out a small sound, the slightly sharper sting in the middle reminding him of the word that it was branding him with. ‘Slut’. Only for his angel. 

“Was that pressure good?” Aziraphale questioned. Crowley groaned. 

“Shut up and hit me.” He requested. Aziraphale heard his unspoken ‘yes, it was perfect, everything you do is perfect can we  _ please _ move on now?’ and chuckled, raising the paddle again. It bit into Crowley’s skin deliciously, and it brought out a shaky moan. 

Aziraphale’s hand tangled in his hair again a few more hits in, and Crowley found his head pulled back. He cried out, and Aziraphale hit him again, harder. He could  _ feel _ his eyes glowing yellow, his brain turning to a pile of absolute mush. The pain was exquisite; the man administering it, even more so. 

“I love the sounds you make,” Aziraphale informed him, smacking him firmly again. Crowley let his mouth fall open, panting. Aziraphale’s steady voice took him apart as he continued, delivering another two swats in quick succession. “You’re  _ so _ lovely when you moan for me.”

Crowley rewarded that with a sharp cry as Aziraphale struck again, hitting against the most sensitive part of his skin. Aziraphale seemed to always aim for the reddest part of his ass, and it made him feel weak. 

“I want you!” Crowley blurted. 

“Five more to go.” Aziraphale said, gently. “Unless you’d like to stop now? You did say this would be a little more vanilla. We could-”

“ _ Please for the love of Satan put something inside of me _ ,” Crowley requested. Aziraphale paused for a moment, and the hand in Crowley’s hair loosened its grip. He felt excitement bubble up, his cock aching as Aziraphale pulled away, tossing the paddle by Crowley’s head. 

Aziraphale walked to the side table, opened the drawer and quickly retrieved the bottle of lube, walking back and slathering some on his fingers. Crowley wiggled his hips impatiently as he waited, head down, listening to his angel move. It felt like  _ forever  _ until Aziraphale’s slick fingers pressed between his cheeks, searching for entrance. 

Crowley relaxed, and Aziraphale pushed in. Crowley let out a soft groan, relishing the feeling of being filled. Aziraphale rocked his finger back and forth, in and out, and Crowley gasped sharply as his free hand tangled in his hair again, pulling his head up. 

“When you do that,” Aziraphale explained, gliding a second finger in alongside the first, “You muffle your noises, Love.”

Crowley felt a shiver go through him at Aziraphale’s nickname, and he couldn’t help his enthusiastic moan as Aziraphale’s fingers slid in deeper and deeper, stretching him. Aziraphale hooked his fingers downwards, finding his prostate. Crowley cried out, his hips bucking at the hot jab of pleasure that jolted through him. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley panted, “One more, please. I’m ready.”

Aziraphale obliged, and a third finger slipped in alongside the first two. Crowley hissed, the pleasure mixing with the slightest hint of pain as he was stretched. It had been awhile since he’d done any penetration. Aziraphale rocked his fingers in and out of Crowley in short, comfortable thrusts. Crowley felt his muscles relax again, and he was tempted to melt into the sheets at the building pleasure from Aziraphale’s aim. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, softly, “Do you think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes!” Crowley responded, his cock throbbing at the thought. Having his angel inside of him would be a dream come true. 

Aziraphale’s fingers slipped out, and Crowley twitched around nothing. He half expected something larger to replace them, but realized quickly that Aziraphale’s hand had left his hair and his angel was taking a step backwards. 

Right. He had asked for this to be  _ missionary _ . 

Crowley righted himself, turning and hopping back onto the bed. Aziraphale crawled over him, the angel’s hungry eyes devouring Crowley. Crowley let his legs fall open easily, eyeing Aziraphale’s (thankfully already slick) member. He looked back up into Aziraphale’s eyes as he tilted his hips upwards, his knees coming to lock around Aziraphale’s waist to keep him close. 

Aziraphale looked down, and he removed one of the hands from beside Crowley. He took himself in hand and lined himself up. Crowley felt a pressure against him and reminded himself yet again to relax as Aziraphale pushed forward. 

Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut as he adjusted to the sensation. Aziraphale wasn’t huge, but he was certainly larger than average. Crowley focussed on his breathing, working to keep his muscles pliant. It felt… It felt fucking  _ amazing _ . 

There was a pressure against his forehead, and his eyes snapped open. Aziraphale’s own eyes stared back, swimming with unadulterated love. Crowley squirmed under that gaze, desire rising up as Aziraphale sat still, waiting for him to adjust. It became clear that no amount of nonverbal affirmation would sway him, and Crowley resigned himself to actually  _ saying _ it. 

“Move!” He requested, canting his hips. Aziraphale pulled out just a couple of inches before thrusting back in, hard and warm inside of Crowley as he looked at him with those adoring eyes. 

Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s breath ghosting across his lips and realized with a start that he didn’t  _ have _ to keep himself from kissing Aziraphale. 

He leaned forward, capturing the angel’s lips with a sultry moan. Aziraphale nipped at his bottom lip as he drew out a little more, thrusting back in with more vigor than before. Crowley let out a needy whine, ready for everything that Aziraphale could give him. 

He felt full. And not just literally. Every time Aziraphale managed to look at him with those startlingly blue eyes, Crowley could have discorporated from how much pure  _ love _ he saw in them. Aziraphale’s lips on his were insistent, needy, grateful. Crowley was shaking with it as the angel changed his angle just the  _ slightest _ , hitting Crowley’s prostate head-on. 

“F-Fuck!” He gasped, throwing his head back. Aziraphale’s lips pressed into his jawline, down into his neck, and stopped to suck a mark into his collarbone. Crowley’s head felt dizzy as Aziraphale left himself a mark, a symbol of ownership. “I’m yours, Angel.”

Aziraphale pulled back, and Crowley realized why that was a bad idea. He was  _ looking _ at Crowley again, with that painfully affectionate expression, like Crowley had hung the stars in the sky just for him. And Crowley would have, my God he would have. If Aziraphale had told him the sky would look better with one of them just a couple more inches to the left, Crowley would have defied God herself and fallen from grace for ‘creative differences’ rather than ‘asking questions that didn’t have good answers’. 

“I’m yours, too.” Aziraphale reminded him. Crowley felt something beautiful and unique and possessive surge up in him, and he lifted one of his hands around Aziraphale’s shoulders, running it along the angel’s skin and up into his hair. Crowley arched his body against Aziraphale’s, the sudden  _ need _ to be close to him making not even their lovemaking  _ enough _ contact. 

Crowley’s back arched off of the bed, and on a whim, he unfurled his wings. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and Crowley watched in fascination as his own wings popped out, seemingly without permission. 

“You did that on purpose.” Aziraphale accused. His tone was playful as he brought his own wings close to them, letting them lay on either side of Crowley’s head. “You know I have no control over these things when you’re involved.”

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley responded, sweetly, “Premature ejacu-wing-tion is nothing to be ashamed of, plenty of genderless angelic beings have performance issues-Agk!”

Aziraphale cut him off with a particularly skillful thrust. Crowley bit his own lip as Aziraphale started to go faster, keeping him overwhelmed with a constant stream of pleasure. Aziraphale’s hands were against his shoulders, pressing him harder into the bed, and Crowley felt deliriously wonderful.

“What was that, Dearest?” Aziraphale questioned, softly. One of the hands on Crowley’s shoulders drifted down to card through his feathers, causing a whole new burst of divine sensation to sing through his body.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley swore, his wings fluttering. The tips of the curled upwards, and he embraced the move, pressing his raven black feathers in and around them until his wings cradled Aziraphale’s own. Aziraphale’s hips stuttered, and Crowley practically purred with pride at his ability to make Aziraphale falter. “Harder, Zira.”

Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing their lips together roughly as he really let go, pounding into Crowley. Crowley gasped in his breaths, arching underneath him, holding onto Zira for dear life as he felt a heat pooling deep within him, building slowly, slowly, bubbling up towards the top and threatening to spill over. 

“I love you, I love you,  _ I love you _ , oh fuck, Angel!  _ I love you! _ ” Crowley had no control over the declarations spilling out of him now, had no agency. Aziraphale’s hand moved up from stroking his feathers to cup his cheek as Aziraphale’s eyes filled with happy tears. 

Damn it. If he ended up crying, Crowley was going to cry, too. 

“I love you too.” Aziraphale whispered. He closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Crowley’s chest. Crowley felt his own answering tears, and he could do little to stop them. The joy that was bubbling up was too overwhelming. Aziraphale was  _ his _ , now. And he was Aziraphale’s. 

And they could kiss, and cuddle, and love, and fuck, whenever they wanted to. For the rest of all eternity, which they had recently extended indefinitely. 

They could have another six-thousand years together. Crowley was overwhelmed at the idea. 

Aziraphale’s hand was suddenly drifting lower, trailing along his skin, making Crowley’s manhood twitch in anticipation. Aziraphale’s skillful fingers wrapped around him firmly, and Crowley let out a sharp cry. “Aziraphale!”

“You’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale said. Crowley felt waves of euphoria coming over him from all sides as he rapidly approached his climax, Aziraphale moving in him and stroking him and praising him, their feathers brushing against each other where their wings mingled, shielding them from the outside world. “You have the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Crowley thought that he could probably from happiness, wrapped up in Aziraphale, the two of them creating their own little world together. He leaned forward, bringing Aziraphale into another kiss. His heart leapt with joy.

“Please cum for me, Dear.” Aziraphale whispered fervently against his lips. Crowley felt his orgasm, which had been building in steady crescendo, suddenly hit him. He moaned as he came  _ hard _ , every sharp pump of Aziraphale into him causing a new, cresting wave of pleasure as the angel milked him through his orgasm. By the end of it, Crowley was panting and squirming from overstimulation, his cock still twitching even as Aziraphale drew his hand back. 

Aziraphale’s thrusts didn’t let up, and Crowley let out a soft whine of pleasure as he felt the angel’s pace falter. 

“Inside,” He answered the question before Aziraphale could even ask it. “Please, Aziraphale. Finish inside me.”

With that request, Aziraphale did just that. He groaned and gasped as he came, his mouth forming a pretty ‘o’ as he fucked his way through it. His thrusts slowed as he began to soften, and he slipped out. Crowley felt empty. 

He wrapped Aziraphale in a tight hug, satisfaction still radiating through him. They rolled over together, some awkward positioning and feather-ruffling finally giving way to a comfortable union, their chests pressed together and their legs intertwined. 

“Thank you.” Crowley said, softly. 

“For what?” Aziraphale questioned. “It was just as enjoyable for me, Darling.”

Crowley blushed. He didn’t know how he’d ever get over the nicknames. He hoped that he never did, that every time Aziraphale called him Love or Honey or Darling he’d get the same soaring feeling in his chest. 

“For loving me.” Crowley responded. Aziraphale looked conflicted, but his expression eventually settled on deep satisfaction as he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together again. 

“You make it hard not to.” Aziraphale said. Crowley pulled him even closer, eager to soak up more of his angel’s beautiful warmth. 

They had made it so, so far since that first meeting in the garden. Every glance, every touch. Every soft caress. All of it had culminated in laying where they were now, spent and satisfied in each other’s arms. Crowley had never felt happier in his entire existence. And he knew, in that moment, that he would change none of it. If he had to go back, had to choose everything a second time, he would make the same choices. 

He would wait. He would suffer. He would pine. He would…

He would fall. 

Because at the end of the day, he would know that all of it lead here. To his angel, in his arms. The way he felt things had always been meant to be. 

“You know you mean the world to me, right?” He asked Aziraphale. 

“Of course.” Aziraphale responded. There was a light, playful kiss against the tip of his nose, and Crowley wrinkled it in response. “And you are  _ everything _ to me.”

~~~ 

Anathema was currently booking a plane ticket to Amsterdam. She would only be gone a couple of days; she’d go, try out the spells she’d isolated as needing tested, and return safely to Tadfield. All necessary precautions to take. 

After all, she had her first gig coming up. She had isolated a small town in Indonesia that had unusual activity. It had taken a very unusual blow to its local seafood supplies recently, and she suspected supernatural activity. She needed to practice her skills if she planned to be able to do anything to help. 

Her phone buzzed next to her, but she dutifully ignored it as she switched tabs, searching for decent accommodations. 

“You gonna get that?” Newt questioned, walking over. He had bags under his eyes and barely held in a yawn as he eyed her phone. 

“You can look at it, if you want.” She said, answering his real question. She knew that Newton would respect her privacy if she said no, but she really didn’t mind. In fact, she found his nosiness to be a little bit  _ endearing _ . He was always interested in whatever she had going on. It was a refreshing change from her last few relationships. 

Newton picked up her phone. Anathema scanned the hotel’s website, looking at the reviews. She heard a gasp from behind her and her eyes practically crossed in front of her face as Newton presented her phone. 

Anathema pulled back, confused as her eyes focussed on the texts. 

_ Aziraphale: Crowley and I aren’t sure whether to murder or thank you. I’m leaning more towards the thanking end of the spectrum. We’re very happy together :). _

Newton clicked the back button and selected another group of messages, presenting her phone to her as he had before. Anathema was prepared for it this time, and smiling. 

_ Crowley: Pull something like that again and I’ll introduce you to my ex-bosses in a very permanent fashion.  _

_ Crowley: But thank you or whatever. Been trying to get here for six thousand years. _

Anathema looked up at a grinning Newton, who was looking incredibly self-satisfied. “We did it! See, I told you it would work!”

Anathema nodded. “That you did. Finally. I’m happy for those two blokes.”

“Do you think they’d be up for double dates now?” Newton questioned. “I have a feeling it might be less awkward this time around, what with them knowing they’re dating.”

Anathema laughed, shaking her head. 

“Yeah, Newt.” She told him. “I think that sounds like a good idea.”

Newton pulled the phone back and began hurriedly typing his proposition as Anathema resumed her research. She knew that the world hadn’t fundamentally changed now that they were together, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was… A little lighter. The air, a little cleaner. Flowers, a little brighter. 

Because two people who had clearly been meant for each other had finally overcome their stubborn longing and admitted it. 

And they deserved it. 

Out of everyone she knew that deserved a happy ending, Aziraphale and Crowley probably deserved it most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what to say here. This was the second longest thing I've ever written, and I loved it. It's been finished for a hot minute now but this fic got me through a real emotional time in my life and I'm incredibly grateful for that. And grateful to you, dear readers, for letting me tell my incredibly self-indulgent story. 
> 
> And if anyone felt inspired by this to write something similar or draw something, you have my full permission!! Just please link back to this fic in the notes and tell me so I can attach a link to it here for future readers! IDC how old the story is; I'm always happy for engagement. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you read and enjoyed this, and if you read but didn't enjoy it, (first off, why? Secondly,) shove your comments up your ass. <3
> 
> Oh, and if you like ineffable wives, I do have a long-ish wives project in the works soooo like and subscribe I guess? Is that what the cool kids say?


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